The Legend of the White Deathbell
by Edward King
Summary: Sable is the newest member of Dark Brotherhood and fancies making herself a living legend to be feared throughout all of Skyrim. Can she attain such lofty ambitions when she takes a contract to assassinate someone that can't be killed? OC is not dragonborn. Follows DB storyline for a short while, but then branches out into original story. Rated M for violence. First Fanfic
1. Chapter 1

Her lips twisted into a smile as she dragged her blade across the man's throat. A moment before he hadn't even known she was there. She had been a shadow, invisible and unknown until her hand had clamped itself over his mouth with a deceptively strong grip. Before he even had time to struggle, she had slit his throat; penetrating deep just above the larynx so he would be unable to make a sound as he bled out. She held him a moment longer before simply letting go and letting him crumple to the floor, stepping back a bit to avoid the ever growing pool of his blood.

This was the fourth such time Sable had smiled that night. Not once had one of the thugs hired as guards even known she was there; the last thing they would ever know being the brief feeling of cold steel against their necks. The smile vanished as she realized that was probably the last of them. She was closing in on her target. This mildly wealthy fool had angered Maven Black-Briar, one of the most influential people in Riften, by attempting to buy a one of the meaderies she used as a front business. Even though the idiot probably had no idea of his crime, Black-Briar would not let the insult go and so had contracted the Thieves Guild to teach him a lesson. The lesson being the planting of a stolen artifact from the local temple of Mara in his bedroom, after which the city guard would get an anonymous tip. He would likely be jailed long enough to see his small wealth slowly shrink away until he would be left impoverished.

Because of the nature of the job, Sable had been specifically instructed not to kill the target. "The target is to be left alive, lass." It was a frequent order issued to her by Brynjolf, the second in command of the guild. Sable honestly had no idea why it mattered. Weren't the goods just as valuable whether or not the mark lived through the theft? She supposed that technically if they weren't alive to experience the loss of possession then it wasn't technically theft and more likely to be considered looting. She hated technicalities though. She'd rather just kill everyone in the way and make off with the goods. This attitude that had nearly got her expelled from the guild on more than one occasion, but they couldn't argue with results and Sable had brought a lot of wealth to the guild since Brynjolf had recruited her. Maybe that's why she was on her fourth or fifth final warning. "The target is to be left alive, lass." True, but he had said nothing about the hired help.

* * *

"By the Eight, lass, you were to plant the artifact, not create a bloodbath!"

"Did I not fulfill the job?" Sable asked Brynjolf. She was more than irritated even though the conversation had just begun. She already knew the lecture she was going to get. She had been given it many times before.

"Sure you planted the loot, but the job was almost botched when the fool woke up to find his house full of bodies." Brynhjolf countered. "Whatever happened to discretion? We're thieves, not the Dark Brotherhood. With your body count, it's a wonder that they haven't already come after you for stealing some of their thunder."

"You only said the target was not to be killed. You never said anything about the dumb oafs he called personal guard." Brynjolf rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Besides, the job was still successful. In fact, I would argue that it went even better than expected when the city guard ended up accusing him of the murders. His fall was even greater. As I hear it, Maven was most pleased."

"Indeed she was, but that's not the point, lass." The big man tried to explain. "We're supposed to keep a low profile and a trail of bodies doesn't accomplish that. What happens when there are so many bodies that the guard can't be paid off anymore?"

Sable opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off. "I don't want to hear it, lass! The only reason I'm not expelling you from the guild is because Maven personally requested that I promote you and give her the opportunity to work with you again. I might have ignored such a request, but, unfortunately, Mercer agreed."

Mercer Frey? She had caught the attention of the reclusive and crotchety guildmaster? She wasn't sure she was going to be able to suppress the smile of satisfaction. Finally, it looked like she was moving up. Maybe even to a position with some power. She cherished the thought. After all, the most precious commodity was power; simple as that. She who had the power, made the rules; could do whatever they pleased with no one to stop them.

Fortunately, Brynjolf dismissed her before she was no longer able to contain herself. As soon as her face turned away, a grin stretched out across it. As she left Brynjolf's quarters, she made to find Mercer Frey immediately.

* * *

The meeting with Mercer had not gone the way Sable thought it would have. Apparently catching the attention of Frey was not always considered a good thing. He gave her much the same lecture about killing people as Brynjolf had, though unlike his second in command, the guild master didn't even try to maintain his composure. The tirade went on for a while before she could get in a word to defend herself.

"Brynjolf said that you agreed with the methods I used and how badly the merchant ended up being disgraced." She interjected nervously.

"I agree with Black-Briar being pleased." Mercer's gravelly voice seemed to only become harder to hear when he was angry. "However, I don't agree with you making it look like we're trying to put the Dark Brotherhood out of business! We're thieves, not murderers. The only reason I'm not expelling you from the guild is because Maven would be quite upset if I did."

"I'm sorry, then." Sable said. "I will be more respectful of guild rules and the directives of both you and Byrnjolf from now on." The only reason she meant it was because she didn't want to be expelled and be on her own again. It had taken her a long time to find a group to accept her in. And while she always felt that she didn't completely belong, she wasn't about to go it alone again.

"Well maybe you can actually mean it, this time!" The lord of the thieves shouted before taking a moment to calm himself. "At any rate, Maven has suggested that you be promoted. However, I don't think that someone that so flouts the rules of my guild should be rewarded."

Her countenance darkened considerably at that point and she lowered her face a bit to avoid letting Mercer see it. This fool just wanted to keep her down, same as Brynjolf.

"Still," he continued without noticing the change in his subordinate. "I can't deny you have real skill. So I'm going to make you a Special Acquirer."

Sable's gaze snapped up to her leader. "I've never heard that title before."

"It has never existed before." Mercer explained with a sly smile. "You will be the first. Don't become too pleased with yourself." He said as he saw the smile forming on her fair face. "You will report only to me and Brynjolf. You will take no job without our approval and the jobs you get will generally come with higher risk or be those that come with special instructions or unusual parameters. Because of this, we'll never know when a job requiring your attention will come along, so we'll need you to remain down here in the Cistern or the Flagon as much as possible."

"So basically, I'm awarded with getting all the sewer jobs but at the same time I must remain confined down here so you can keep an eye on me." She said, her mood becoming dark again.

A smile and dismissal from Frey was her only response. She fled the room frustrated and feeling rather unappreciated.

Sable made her way to her bed in the common area of the Cistern. The Cistern was a large circular area of the sewers beneath Riften. In the middle was an actual cistern over which four bridges, one from each side of the room, that met in the middle at a circular dais suspended over the "pond" below. Also leading away from each bridge were passageways that led to other parts of the sewer. The one she was coming from led to Mercer's quarters and the vault. To her left was the ladder that led up to the guild's secret entrance in the cemetery of Riften. Ahead of her, across the cistern, was the entrance to The Ragged Flagon – the guild's tavern. But she went to her right. In that tunnel, the training areas and barracks were found.

She didn't quite make it there before she was waylaid by young thief that called himself Flicker. Supposedly, he earned his nickname from his ability to clean out a house in the "flicker" of an eye. However, Sable was beginning to think it applied in another way. The young Imperial was so timid that she figured he would come apart at the seams if anyone so much as looked at him cross-eyed. He seemed particularly nervous on this occasion though.

"S-Sable!" he caught her attention apparently louder than he intended as he immediately flinched and looked around to make sure he hadn't gathered anyone else's. When he decided all was clear, he quickly took the couple of steps needed to close the distance between them. "Um ... hi. H-How are you doing?"

"Not great, Flicker. What do you need?" She sighed. She really just wanted to be alone for bit after the disastrous meeting with the guildmaster.

"Oh, well then … maybe I'll ask you another time, then." He wrung his hands as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"Ask me what?" She was guessing that she wouldn't like where this would go, but was curious hoping that perhaps it wasn't what she thought it was.

"What?" He startled. "Oh, well … well, the Bee and Barb was … um … well I think they make a pretty good venison stew. At least I think so anyway. Have you ever tried it?" He paused searching for some kind of reaction. "Well, I just thought that … uh … that maybe we could maybe go have some one night."

Sable managed to keep the groan from becoming audible; it was exactly what she thought it was.

"I don't think so Flicker." She had no interest in letting him down easily – even if she hadn't been in a foul mood due to the meeting she just had with Mercer Frey.

His eyes dropped back to the floor. "Oh, I see." He replied dejectedly.

She was about to just leave the newest member of the guild to do whatever he needed to do with the rejection but then curiosity overcame her suddenly and surprisingly.

"Why'd you even ask?" She inquired.

"What do you mean?" Confusion evident in his voice and the look on his face.

"What made you so interested in me?" Sable clarified.

"You're beautiful!" He blurted out. He realized it and took a moment to reign himself in. "Sorry, it's just that the first time I saw you, you took my breath away. Your white hair, your fair – very fair skin, the pale blue silver color of your eyes and light but full lips. And your voluptuous …"

"I see." She interrupted. At first his enthusiastic and unusually bold response was quite flattering, but as he got carried away, it started to become a little creepy. He was disturbingly accurate with his description. Her appearance was decidedly fair, even by Nord standards and it had always gotten her a bit more attention than she cared for, though not always friendly. And the men that did show an amorous intent towards her quickly learned to lose their interest as she had never shown any towards them.

"Well, thank you." She finally offered. "But I'm just not interested in any relationship beyond a working one."

"I … uh … I understand." He tried to put on a façade of confidence and with most people he might have succeeded, but she saw the small tell-tales of one hiding emotional pain. She was quite good at reading people, finding it yet another way to hold power. If she knew their emotional state, she could manipulate or even crush a person if needed.

Sable didn't wait for any further conversation from him. She left him and went straight to her shared room and was relieved to find that all of her roommates were not currently there. She went to the chest at the foot of her bed and, glancing around to make sure she was alone, opened it. Inside lay the only possession she valued. It was a length of high quality silk. It was a deep purple color and the fabric still retained the sheen from when it was first wove. The artist had also embroidered with gold thread depictions of flowers most closely resembling the flower heads of the deathbell. She'd had it for as long as she could remember though she did not recall how she came to possess it. Sable assumed that it had come from her mother and somehow that just seemed to feel right to her. She loved how pretty it was. She adored it and visualized how wonderful it would look tied in her white locks while she wore a beautiful gown. She longed for the day when she would be able to dress up in such pretty things, but didn't suppose it would ever happen. She was, after all, a thief, and a murderous one at that.

Sable sighed and hid the ribbon back in her chest and laid down to get some sleep. She was sure she would need the rest for whatever jobs Mercer and Brynjolf would dream up for her to do.

* * *

**A/N: First off, a big thank you to Kira Mackey for all her help with getting acquainted with . This is my first fanfic, so please leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

The "promotion" (if it could be called as such) brought new types of jobs for Sable. At first, she enjoyed the challenge they brought as the stakes were higher; the targets generally being wealthier with better security. The objects stolen were generally more valuable as well. But eventually, these jobs became just as tedious as all the others. Both Brynjolf and Mercer choose their words much more carefully ever since the plant job for Maven Black-Briar. Now the common instruction was that no one was to be killed. Blast them for ruining her fun. Still, she tried to find ways to make jobs more exciting, sometimes seeing if she could steal whatever the needed item was during the day time. Once, she had convinced an idiot to give her the object she was sent to steal. It had taken some real effort and a rather long lecture from Brynjolf afterwards about the appropriate use of the guild's treasury, but she had convinced the poor fool that his newly acquired gold and emerald amulet was really a cursed dragon priest artifact. He had actually thought she was doing him a favor as he happily handed it over to her.

This job, however, promised a great amount of hazard. The guild had been on the hunt for a jewel encrusted gold broche for some time and had finally learned it belonged to one of the Jarls of Skyrim. Siddgier, the ruler of Falkreath hold was found to have come into possession of the broche and as it was his current favorite toy, it never left his person. It was likely going to have to be a pickpocket job. The bad news was that time was running short on the contract and Siddgier was currently in Windhelm to attend a ball hosted by Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of the Eastmarch hold. Not only a pickpocket job, but in a room full of aristocracy and guards. If the thief was caught, it was unlikely they would be returning to the Ragged Flagon, the beloved home of the thieves guild, hidden in the sewers beneath Riften. Brynjolf had given the assignment to Sable stating that the time crunch and extreme risk of being caught was tailor made for their resident Special Acquirer and, that in his estimation, she was the best pickpocket the guild had.

Brynjolf was a damn good liar, but this was like he wasn't even trying. There was none better at pickpocketing than the guild's own Vipir the Fleet and everyone knew it. Sable was guessing that Brynjolf was almost hoping she would be caught and thrown in the Eastmarch dungeon for the rest of her life or executed. Still, she figured that the job wouldn't have been assigned to her if any of the others could pull it off and she almost hoped that her inward knowing smirk wasn't showing too much. Almost.

Some conversations with Vex and Sapphire, the only other women in the guild, revealed that Siddgier was quite the lazy type, who avoided his duties as if they would infect him with Bone-Break Fever, and that he fancied himself a bit of a charmer with the ladies. Sable was quite satisfied with that information. She could turn his weaknesses into strengths for her. A nice dress that showed off her curves along with some of her ample cleavage would easily make up for her slight deficiencies at pickpocketing.

It hadn't taken her long to gain Siddgier's attention at the party. Her fair skin – even by the standards of her Nord kin – combined with her stark white hair and pale blue-silver eyes once again attracted attention. Even more so in the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was a crimson red that was trimmed with cream and gold. She could smell mead on his breath as he drunkenly asked her to dance. Despite her revulsion, Sable did her best to fake being impressed. Not only did she accept the invitation, but played the part of a young maiden simply beguiled by his chauvinistic advances quite well. She didn't bother to unglue his eyes from her partially exposed bosom. It only worked to her advantage. Just as she was about to attempt one of his pockets, Siddgier suddenly stopped dancing and took her by the arm, leading her to a darkened corner of the grand hall.

Expulsion or not, she resolved that she would kill him if he kissed or attempted to grope her, but she ended up quite surprised at her luck when they got there. As soon as they were seated out of the way of the ongoing party, he fished out of a pocket the very thing she was sent to steal out of it.

"Look at this." He slurred. "There is not another like it in all of Skyrim and I own it."

Sable just stared, not quite sure of her response. She was simply dumbfounded by both how this turn of events favored her and the beauty of the piece. It was a large, flawless diamond set in an oval of gold with a mixture of sapphires and emeralds dancing around it. The white-haired thief couldn't help but imagine how marvelous she would look with it resting at her shoulders just off her cleavage in the beautiful dress she was wearing. She suddenly regretted leaving her treasured ribbon.

"I have lots of treasures like this you know." The jarl murmured drunkenly, breaking her reverie. "I just know you would look so pretty in some of the jewelry in my treasury."

Sable almost laughed. This was his game. He was going to try to impress his way into her bed with shiny baubles. Granted, it was such a radiant one, but it certainly wasn't worth giving herself up to the lout. Of greatest importance in life was power, and right now, with Siddgier, she was quite powerful. At that moment, one of the serving men walked in with a fresh tray of mead filled goblets.

"Oh, my lord! May I hold it?" Sable said suggestively. "I've never seen anything so desirable." Normally, she would have laughed at such a forced innuendo, but in his drunken state, Siddgier took the bait with no hesitation, thrusting it into her hands.

Sable couldn't believe that it had been so easy. She took in the broche for a moment, but her admiration was broken as she realized that Siddgier was leaning in closer to her. She looked to his face and saw his eyes closed and his lips pursed. He was a real charmer alright. The drunk slob probably couldn't tell her what color her eyes were and now expected a kiss after pushing a trinket in her hand.

"My lord, they have brought out another round of mead. Would you do me the favor of getting me a glass?" She said, feigning that she had been unaware of his advance. "I would be ever so grateful."

The last sentence she tried to say with as much innuendo laden sensuality as possible. It had the desired effect as Siddgier mumbled something about it being his pleasure and got up, his treasure completely forgotten, to chase the servant across the room and fetch a goblet of mead for his newest conquest.

Sable, using the shadows their corner afforded, pushed the broche into her dress and left the room unseen.

* * *

Outside, it was snowing gently. Sable began to wonder if it was ever not snowing in Windhelm. In all the times she had been there, it was always snowing. She supposed there had to be times when it wasn't snowing because the street ways were always traversable. Though she had to admit, she did like Windhelm some. The almost perpetual snow gave Windhelm a cold, almost calculating, and sometimes gloomy feel to it. She liked it. She decided that the darker nights in this city, with the deep, expansive shadows almost perfectly reflected herself.

She looked up at the sky. The clouds obscured most of the light any stars and the twin moons would have provided. Windhelm was going to be a very dark place tonight. Perfect. She smiled as she set out into the city. The dress she was wearing, while somewhat heavy, provided very little protection from the cold, so she headed straight for the stall of a certain merchant. Niranye, ran a shop in an outside market where she bought and sold just about anything. While the guild had not yet become powerful enough in Windhelm yet for the altmer to be comfortable with acting as a fence for them, she did still have sympathies to the thieves stemming from her past exploits in the Summerset Isles, before she came to Skyrim. Sable made for Niranye's stall unseen by the patrolling guards. With the cloud cover, the shadows were almost impenetrable this night. Once there, she picked the lock to one of the cabinets. Inside, it was bare. There was nothing in it. But then, she hadn't come to steal anything. Sable pried up the false bottom to the cabinet. The opening underneath ran the length of Niranye's stall, large enough to fit the much warmer and many pocketed leather armor that was the trademark of the thieves guild. Sable gathered up her armor that the high elf had allowed her to stash there and was about to leave when something caught her eye. Underneath her armor, was a gold pendant on thin gold chain. The pendant had two flawless amethysts set into it. It was undoubtedly valuable and equally pretty. It had not been there when she had stashed her armor the night before. Why would Niranye intentionally set it under her armor? A gift maybe? That seemed unlikely though and she just didn't trust it. But there was no reason to leave her a gift when she was the one that received a favor. As she thought, her eyes began roaming every inch of the stall. Finally she spotted it.

On the right hand side of the stall near the base of the main post, there was a small symbol carved into the wood. It was a simple upright four sided diamond with two overlapping circles across the front of it. Sable smiled. Niranye was testing the resolve of the guild. The symbol marked that she and her stall of goods were under the protection of the thieves guild. The high elf, apparently, didn't fully trust the strength of her new business relationship and had left some bait (some rather valuable and tempting bait) for her. Sable took the necklace and replaced the false bottom. After removing and pocketing the chain, she set the pendant in the otherwise empty cabinet, closed the small door and locked it back up. She was arguably overstepping her bounds here, but she wanted to send a message to Niranye. The Thieves Guild has passed your little test, elf; don't test us again.

Sable made her way to a nearby inn and "borrowed" a room just long enough to change out of the dress and into her armor. She left the dress with great regret. There was a long journey ahead of her to get back to Riften and though she dearly wanted to keep the beautiful gown, she knew it just wasn't practical. Maybe she could hide it someplace and come back for it, she thought. She eventually dismissed it as she had no idea when she might be back in Windhelm. The dress could easily be found and removed or destroyed by the elements before she returned. She held it to her and looked down over her body to remember exactly how pretty she had looked in it, then gently laid it out on the bed with a sigh and left the inn.

Outside, it was still snowing as Sable set off for the gate out of the city. She again avoided being seen by the guards even though she didn't have to. Even in her guild armor it was unlikely they would stop her. With the civil war raging, many of the guards had been re-assigned into the infantry, so the city was stretched thin and they generally only intervened if there was a crime actively being committed. Still, it made her feel powerful to be so close to someone when they had no awareness of her presence. And, after her time in the thieves guild, sneaking was pretty much a force of habit.

The gate, however, was pretty much impossible to get by unseen. There were always at least one guard to either side of the gate and it was always bathed in torchlight. And one almost always got stopped at the gate by the guards. Mainly just so they would have someone to chatter with. Sometimes, Sable was convinced that the tedium of their gossip would kill her before they could get the heavy doors open.

Sable, approached casually and was hailed by the guard. They agreed to let her out. One went to turn the crank to open the large heavy doors. She cringed through the awkward moment of silence while the other just stared at her before starting his inane banter.

"Did you hear about that Aretino, boy?" the guard started. "They say he's trying to perform some ritual to try to summon the Dark Brotherhood. I suppose someone should stop him, but personally, I'll have nothing to do with that evil business."

Sable, initially tried to ignore the guard, but the word ritual caught her ear. Rituals were usually done to gain some sort of power, were they not? She had heard about people performing the Black Sacrament in order to enact a contact with the assassins, but she did not know what was involved. Maybe she could even pretend to be an assassin and have at least some fun on this trip.


	3. Chapter 3

After a conversation with the keeper of the inn, Sable found herself picking the lock to the Aretino house and making her way silently inside. Immediately in front of her was a set of stairs. The glow of light in another room on the second floor told her that the ritual that had aroused her curiosity lay upstairs. As she got to the top of the stairs she could hear a young boy chanting over and over.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

She silently crept across the small common room to a nearby bedroom from where the light was emanating. The shock of the scene before her stopped her dead in her tracks.

Inside, a boy of about ten years had created an effigy of a person. He had almost a complete skeleton along with a heart and some flesh which he was repeatedly stabbing while chanting. Both the "body" and boy were inside a circle of candles, the flames of which flickered and danced throwing elongated shadows all over the walls. Blood was flecked everywhere from the boy's stabbing at the heart of the effigy.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." He paused. "So ... very tired.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

Sable just stood there watching the macabre scene wondering what horrors this boy must have gone through to put the effigy together. Worse yet, what evil was done to the boy that would cause him to carry this out? And who perpetrated such an evil?

The boy eventually must have felt her staring because he suddenly stopped and looked toward her.

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the ... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

Sable, remained involuntarily silent. She just couldn't bring herself to respond.

"You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract."

At this, Sable finally managed to find her voice. "Contract?"

"My mother, she … she died." The boy replied. "I … I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home." His voice now regained some of his earlier excitement. "And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

"What happened to your mother?" The pretend assassin asked crouching down to face the boy. He looked exhausted. It was clear by the bags and dark circles under his eyes that he hadn't slept in quite a while.

"She got sick, last winter, when the snows came. And she just … she never got better. Not all year. One night she fell asleep and … never woke up. So now I'm all alone. And the Jarl said I had to go to Honorhall Orphanage. It's not fair!"

Sable was normally all for killing, but this was almost unbelievable. "Are you sure about this boy? Murdering this woman?"

"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life. Someone like Grelod doesn't deserve to live one more day. She's a monster! And I can pay you. I have a family heirloom you can have. It's supposed to be sort of valuable. I hope that is all right."

Sable nodded and then stood up. "I'll come back when the job is done," she said and left the Aretino house.

* * *

Upon her return to Riften, Sable was determined to check out the boy's story and make sure it was actually true. She was rebuffed during a simple visit by the assistant headmistress, a woman calling herself Constance. While she didn't seem very cruel, she was in quite a hurry to usher Sable out of the orphanage.

"You really shouldn't be here." She had said. "I'm sorry, but the children aren't up for adoption right now. You should go."

When Sable, attempted to question her further, Constance tried to assure her while still pushing her out.

"Look, my only concern is for the children. The poor darlings have no one else. If there's nothing else, I really must ask you to leave."

Sable had thought Constance's responses to be quite interesting, but also knew she wouldn't learn anything new from her. She would have to use her thieving skills to do her own reconnaissance.

In the meantime, she decided to return to the Ragged Flagon and report the job finished. Both Brynjolf and Mercer were quite pleased. Especially that no one had been killed. As a bonus, they had received a note from Niranye commending the guild for the professionalism displayed by their agent. Sable smiled at that comment. The high elf had received the message loud and clear. That combined with her having finished the job on time, Mercer presented her with a new set of leathers. These had a slightly different arrangement of pockets and straps. Anyone within the guild would see the pattern as marking her a high ranking thief within the guild. It even got her a better discount from the local fence.

Later that night, Sable crept out of the guild house and went to the orphanage to look around. She silently entered through a window into a small room devoid of any furniture save a cabinet against the near wall. She picked the lock easily and discovered it was full of heavy iron manacles. Wondering what in the world an orphanage would need with several sets of manacles, she slowly inched the door open on the far side of the room. It opened to the common room. Sable snooped around for a bit.

Constance's room was rather Spartan as well. A bed, a simple wardrobe, and a desk were all that the room contained. Sable searched the wardrobe and desk and found nothing sinister. Grelod's room was only slightly more lavish with a chest at the foot of her bed. Sable did find a whipping switch on Grelod's desk, but those were fairly common in any household much less an orphanage. She, apparently, was going to have to try to observe the orphanage when it was more active.

Before leaving, Sable used a dagger to make a slight crack in the door of the room she had come in. She would use it to peer through into the common room and watch since it would afford her with an excellent view. She left through the same window she entered and was gone without anyone ever knowing she was there.

* * *

Over the next few days, the crack in the door allowed Sable to get to know the headmistress of the orphanage. Grelod the Kind was anything but. She was probably the oldest woman Sable had ever seen. Covered with wrinkles with a matte of gray hair, it seemed her advanced age only served to fuel her bitterness. She would routinely call them names as they went about their "chores" of cooking and cleaning the orphanage along with anything else she dreamed up for them. She also would fly off into a rage for even the smallest transgressions. Most of the time, she made Constance take care of issues with the children. She once ordered Constance to "talk the tears" out of a frightened child or they would be beaten. Another time she instructed Constance to retrieve some coins she figured were stolen from her purse by one of the children or she would have them thrown into the Jarl's dungeon. Constance did her best to protect the children and it was clear she really did care for them, but it seemed Grelod was too much to overcome, especially when she sent Constance out on various errands for the orphanage.

Sable had gone back to the orphanage and questioned Constance again. She got a bit more information from her when she asked about Grelod's treatment of the children.

"Sadly, yes." She had explained. "Even the townsfolk have taken to calling her 'Grelod the Kind.' Her very existence has become something of a running joke. Grelod runs this orphanage because she's old, and set in her ways, and doesn't know any other life. These children need love, and comfort. I try … But … I'm sorry, you should go. The children aren't up for adoption and it's cruel to get their hopes up. Besides, Grelod hates … visitors."

It was actually when Constance had been sent out shopping for supplies that Sable had decided, just like the Aretino boy, that Grelod had to die. After ending yet another lecture to the children explaining how they were good for nothing, Grelod went to her room. She slammed the door hard enough that the vibrations caused a plate on a nearby shelf to fall and shatter. All of the children stood still in fear. When Grelod the Kind's door swung back open a moment later, they scattered, trying to find places to hide. However, Grelod caught one of them and began hauling them to the "Discipline Room". Sable quickly realized that the room she was hiding in was the destination of Grelod and the poor child she had managed to catch. Sable made for the window and was on the roof of the building before they entered.

She hung her head from the roof and peeked in the window to watch what unfolded. Grelod's face was red with anger as she brought the child in. The young boy tried to free himself but made not a bit of progress against what must have been the old woman's iron grip. She made right for the cabinet and drew out a pair of the manacles. Despite the boy's struggles, she clapped them onto his wrists quickly, dragged him over to a wall to the left of the window and hung them over a hook in the wall so he couldn't flee. She then drew the switch Sable had seen in her room. As soon as he saw it, the boy turned his back to the old crone to protect himself from the beating as best he could. The boy screamed in pain with each blow, but it seemed that Grelod would never stop. When she began to see red stain the back of the boy's shirt, Sable flashed back to her childhood and the tortures she endured through her early teenaged years.

Like the Aretino boy, her parents had died when she was young and she was taken in by an innkeeper. At first, the arrangement was nice. She helped with cleaning and cooking and he gave her food and a safe place to sleep. However, as she entered her teenaged years, he turned on her. The abuses she suffered at his hands were not the same as this boy was getting, but she was no less enraged by it. The inn keeper had been her first kill. She had never looked back, eventually finding her way to the thieves guild.

Sable snapped out of her unexpected recollections. This couldn't go unpunished. In a silent flash, Sable was back in the room unnoticed by Grelod. Another second later, Sable was immediately behind her. A moment later, her blade bit the old woman's throat. She yanked her to the side so none of her blood would defile the innocent, nearly unconscious boy hanging limp against the wall.

"You're free of her evil now," she whispered to the boy, tears of sorrow and rage stinging her eyes. The boy only groaned in reply. "I'm sorry I did not act sooner. I will do what I can to help you."

Just then, she heard the main door to the orphanage creak open. Constance was back. She quickly forced her only healing potion down the boy's throat as best she could and once again exited using the window.

When Constance saw the door to the Discipline Room slightly ajar, she rushed over. Grelod would usually leave the children hanging after such a beating for her to take care of. When she threw open the door, she got the shock of her life. There was a boy hanging, his shirt soaked with blood. Lying next to him in a pool of blood was Grelod. Stone dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: First off, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and/or followed. The encouragement is greatly appreciated. This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones. I just couldn't break it up in a way that kept a good flow for the story.**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think. And thanks for reading.**

**-Edward**

* * *

It had taken some convincing, but Sable was back in Windhelm.

Brynjolf had seemed very suspicious of her refusing a job in order to pursue a "personal matter".

_"What kind of personal matter, lass?" the red-haired Nord had questioned._

_"That's the thing about personal matters, Brynjolf," she had retorted. "They're personal."_

_Brynjolf arched an eyebrow suspiciously. He was about to say something, but she cut him off. "I promise I won't be killing anyone. Does that help?"_

_It had seemed the relieve some of the suspicion he held, but still he questioned. "Are you freelancin', lass? You know the rules about guild members doing private jobs on the side."_

_"I'm attending my mother's funeral!" She had snapped. She had known that was not going to resolve anything. Brynjolf knew her background. He knew that her mother had died long before she had come to the guild. But, then he had surprised her._

_"Alright, lass, I'll respect your privacy. Get back as soon as you can. There are jobs lined up for you."_

_She was grateful that he had let it drop. It was rather uncharacteristic of him. They had never really had a good relationship. It had been nice at first, but it didn't take him long to disagree with her methods. He just didn't see the same power in taking life that she did. That was always his problem. He was satisfied with just having wealth. He didn't see the big picture of power. Not only did she see it, she took the opportunity to exercise it. She supposed that's what bothered him about her. She had come to realize that the guild as a whole was weak due to lack of ambition to seize power. Even Mercer Frey. It seemed like he saw the big picture, but was too scared to try to wield it._

_One day, she resolved, she would lead the guild and then they would discover a level of wealth and power that they hadn't dreamed of. All of Skyrim would fear the guild. The guild would hold real power over everyone._

Finally, the guard had moved along his route. Sable crept out of the shadow and picked the lock to the Aretino house. It didn't take her long to find the boy inside. He was overjoyed to see her again.

"Did you do it? Is Grelod … you know, dead?"

"She will never harm you or any other child again." Sable promised crouching to his level. "Now, about my payment …"

"I'm sorry. I have it in the other room. Wait here!" The boy dashed off into another room before she could finish. She wanted him to keep whatever the heirloom was. Hopefully it would be something the boy could look at and remember better times with his family. Worst case, he could sell it and use the money to support himself.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be an assassin. That way I can help lots of children, just like you." The boy emerged carrying a large silver plate that was finely decorated around the edges. Sable slumped a bit. The plate was moderately valuable. Not the treasure he thought it was though. Still she urged him to keep it.

"It's okay, young man, you can keep it. This job wasn't that hard anyway." She tried.

"No! You must take it!" he cried. "We had a contract. I don't want the assassins to come after me if you don't take it. You must take it! Besides, I would gladly pay much more than this to be rid of that monster, Grelod, if I had anymore to give. Please take it."

"Okay, okay. I'll take it." Sable gave in. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I don't think I should stay here." He thought for a moment. "Constance was always nice to me. I think I'll go back to the orphanage in a while. I'll give them time to, you know … clean up the mess."

"I see. Be careful, okay."

The boy gave her a funny look. "I made the trip once and it wasn't so hard. I can do it again."

"Of course." She confirmed. "With the contract fulfilled, I'll take my leave."

Outside, the sun was just beginning to dawn over the horizon. Sable made straight for Niranye's stall. She figured there was one last thing she could do for the Aretino boy.

Niranye was just opening as Sable approached.

"Greetings Niranye." She said as she approached. Niranye recognized her leather armor affiliating her with the thieves guild immediately.

"What service can I provide for the guild this morning?" She asked.

"What will you give me for this?" Sable set the ornate silver plate on the altmer's table.

Niranye looked it over for a moment. "It's a decent piece if a bit unremarkable. For the guild, I'll go as high as 75 septims, though it's probably only worth about 67."

"Would that be enough for me to secure a person protected travel to Riften?" Sable asked.

"Is this for you?"

Sable shook her head. "And they need to be unaware that protection is being provided."

The high elf frowned. "What you're asking for is worth much more than what you're offering."

"How much?" the white-haired thief asked.

"Probably 100 septims. Maybe a bit more."

"Will this cover the rest?" Sable asked reaching into a pocket and pulling from it the gold chain she had taken from Niranye's stall about a week and half earlier. Niranye recognized it instantly. Her face flushed with anger, but changed to amusement a moment later.

"Well, you've got some guts, don't you." She smirked. "But yes, that will cover it. I'll make the arrangements, but I'm considering this a personal favor to you. I will call it to be re-paid at some point."

"Done."

"Good. Tell me who are we looking after?"

"The Aretino boy." Sable replied. The look on Niranye's face showed the deal was becoming rather tenuous.

"What business do you have with that boy?" the high elf asked incredulously. "That one is said to have been messing around with some _dark_ dealings." She emphasized the word "dark" in order to convey exactly what she thought those dealings to be.

Sable reached into another pocket and slapped a gold and diamond ring down on the table. She had acquired from some noble visiting Riften. "If it's all the same," she leaned in and spoke quietly, "that business is my own and I would appreciate that all this be kept very quiet and without any further questions."

"Fine," Niranye bristled. "I'll make the arrangements, but I don't want this plate. I'll have nothing connecting me to whatever that boy was into. Are we clear on that?"

Sable retrieved the Aretino artifact. "Crystal."

The curvy thief turned, and made for Windhelm's gate.

* * *

A few days later, Sable had found herself in Whiterun. This job was indirectly connected to Maven Black-Briar, so she had been sent due to her past work for the unofficial matron of the guild. Mallus Maccius ran the meadery just outside of the city as an extension to Black-Briar's front business. One of the mead vats had broken and new parts were required to get it operational again. Rather than pay for the fabrication of new ones via a blacksmith, Mallus had commissioned the thieves guild to acquire them. Keeping the repair "in house" proved quite cost-effective for him, which in turn, kept Maven happy.

Sable had stolen the pieces needed from a nearby ale brewery that used the same type of vats by "borrowing" another worker's uniform and looking like a regular employee. She returned the uniform to the still unconscious worker right in the same alley where she had left him and was on her way to the meadery when a courier came running up.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a message for you. Let me find it here." He rummaged in a bag and then produced a folded piece of paper. "Here we go."

"Who's it from?" Sable questioned.

"I didn't get a name. Some rather creepy looking guy in a black robe. He paid lots of money, so I wasn't about to ask questions. Said to make sure I delivered this to your hands only." He waited a moment before deciding their conversation was over. "Well, that's it. Got to go."

With that he turned and headed off in the other direction. Sable opened the note and felt the color drain from her face. The note was blank except for the depiction of a hand print in black ink and only two words scrawled across the bottom. "We know."

* * *

It was taking much longer than expected to deliver the vat parts to Mallus. He insisted on replacing them on the vats and making sure they worked before letting her go. It didn't help that he barely knew what was he was doing. Mallus had inherited the meadery from Maven Black-Briar after helping the city guard "discover" the previous owner was running it under extremely unsanitary conditions. Sable was forced to stand there and watch as the Imperial fumbled to get the parts changed out and declare the job a success. It left her to wonder about the note she had received. While she wasn't sure, she was betting the note was from someone within the Dark Brotherhood. How could they have possibly known? Had she been careless and someone seen her? The murder of Grelod the Kind had caused quite a stir in Riften, but last she heard, they still had no idea who the killer was and the guard had officially attributed the murder to the assassins guild. By the Eight Divines, how could they possibly know? More importantly, were they going to exact some kind of revenge?

"Okay, looks like it's in working order. Here's the pay for the both you and the guild. You can leave now."

Mallus was the type of person that Sable normally might kill just so the world wouldn't have to deal with him any longer, but since he was in charge of the operation in Whiterun, she resisted the urge. It wouldn't do to anger Maven Black-Briar. Not even thieves were outside of her wrath. She took the offered coin purse and left.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. How long had she been in there? The growing darkness quickly set her in a foul mood. She could have been on her way back to Riften by now, but since she hadn't slept the night before, choosing to push through to Whiterun and try to get the job over with, she was quite tired. She decided it best to rent a room at an inn and set off tomorrow.

She rented the cheapest room at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. It was a loft overlooking the common bar area of the inn and contained only a small square table and a bed. Sable fell into the bed without bothering to undress. She was exhausted and was hoping wake up to find the note from the Dark Brotherhood to be nothing more than a figment of some bothersome dream.

* * *

Sable woke with blurred vision and disorientation. She knew enough that she was no longer in the Bannered Mare. As her vision started to clear, she took in more detail. She was in some kind of shack. It was lit by a small fire in the pit in the middle of the one roomed structure. Finally her vision cleared enough to see another person.

She was sitting across from Sable on the top of a set of book shelves with her left leg casually hanging off the front. She was covered head to toe in black and dark red leather armor. The only part of her that was visible was a gap in her mask revealing her brow and hazel eyes.

"Sleep well?" He voice was like silk.

"What? Where am I? Who are you?" For some reason she wasn't sure of yet, Sable was more intrigued than frightened.

"Does it matter?" the stranger asked. "You're warm, dry … and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmmm?"

"You know about that?" Sable questioned. She was incredulous that anyone knew that she had done it.

"Half of Skyrim knows," came the amused reply. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around." Sable's heart leapt into her throat. Sure, the murder would be a popular conversation topic for a while, but no one had known it was her. She had killed a lot of people, but this was the first time that anyone outside of the thieves guild had known about it.

"Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot." She continued, apparently not understanding Sable's look of puzzlement.

"Ah, but there is a slight … problem." Her silken voice took on a slight hint of menace. "You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill … that you stole. A kill you must repay."

"What do you mean a kill I must repay?" Sable crossed her arms over her chest. While to most, it would seem a posture of indifference or consternation, the reality was that doing so readied her to pull her daggers very quickly.

"Well now. Funny you should ask. If you turn about you'll notice my guests. I've collected them from … well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But … which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe … and admire."

Sable turned and saw three other captives bound and hooded across the room. There was a man, a woman, and a Khajiit. Determined to get it all over with, she crossed the room and attempted to question the prisoners.

The man revealed himself to be a mercenary but claimed no knowledge of someone wanting him dead. He did, however, postulate that perhaps there was any number of people that might hold a grudge again him. He was a sell-sword after all. Sable, not convinced, drew her dagger and touched his arm with the cold blade.

"Alright, alright! Maybe there were … times I got carried away? But war is war."

There it was. Some kind of brutality he had perpetrated and was apparently remorseful about. Perhaps he was the one.

Sable went to the woman next. She was aged, though not as old as Grelod was. She was also quite crass and abrasive, demanding to be set free. She, apparently, thought highly of herself as well. When the old woman revealed that perhaps she was rather tough on her many children Sable thought of Grelod. With the beating she had witnessed still somewhat fresh, she could feel herself flushing with the heat of anger.

"Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right. And you can be yet another if you don't let me go this instant!"

The threats and demands went on and on. Sable was more than ready to make this self-righteous hag eternally silent, but since she was being tested to find which one had a contract out on them, she decided to question the cat, just to be thorough.

The Khajiit seemed to be the only one of the three not alarmed or stressed by his situation, casually mentioning that this wasn't the first time he had been "bagged and dragged."

"Do anything that someone might want to have you killed for?" she asked him.

"Of course," he boasted. "I am Vasha, obtainer of goods, taker of lives, defiler of daughters. If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult."

Perfect, the thief thought, each one of them would seem to have good reason to have someone wanting them dead. How was she supposed to decide? What would happen if she chose incorrectly? The other captives, apparently taking her indecision and quiet as an indication of their eminent death, began to plea their innocence to her. Well two of them pleaded. The cat simply laughed and asked if they could get it over with so he could go on about his business. The others kept begging louder and louder, trying to be heard over the other.

The clamor rose to the point that Sable was having trouble trying to think through the decision. The frustration at her inability to reason out which one had the hit put on them soon grew to anger. The racket fueled it until, overwhelmed with inward frustration, she acted.

Without saying a word, the white-haired Nord angrily stomped over to the mercenary and slit his throat. The others heard the gargling then the thump of his lifeless body as it hit the floor and began to offer her thanks and gratitude for making the correct choice. But they were premature. She next calmly walked to the woman and with saying a word, slashed her throat as well. Another step later, her knife flashed across Vasha's neck.

After the third body fell to the floor, Sable crossed the room back to her captor, determined to walk out of the room alive, whatever it took. The black and red clad woman hopped down from her perch atop the book case.

"Well, well. Aren't we the overachiever." She greeted her with her silken voice and a look of amusement in her beautiful hazel eyes. "Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances."

Sable just stood there wondering if she had gained her approval, or if she had again over-stepped her bounds and would have to kill a fourth this day. She said nothing.

After waiting a moment and getting no response, the assassin spoke again. "I would like to officially extend you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: 'Silence, my brother.' Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you at home."

With that, her captor turned and left the shack.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter marks the end of the first part of The Legend of The White Deathbell. In the next chapters, she will get some training and then her first major contract dealing with a certain apothecary's assistant. Afterwards the story will break away from the DB storyline of the game. Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, favorited. I appreciate it and PM's are welcome.**

* * *

A couple of days of travelling found Sable staring at what had to be the Black Door. The entrance to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary was quite gruesome. Carved into the dark gray stone was a depiction of a skeleton sitting against the left hand side with its knees bent. At the base of the skeleton under the legs were five smaller skulls jumbled together. Above all that was a much larger skull, taking up nearly the top half of the door, with a large, red hand print on its forehead.

Before approaching the door, Sable thought again about her decision. Stepping through this door most likely meant the end of her rather prosperous life with the thieves guild. She had wondered whether she wanted to join the assassin's guild, or as her brief captor had put it, the Family. Should she step into a life of murder for hire? The prospect of killing didn't really concern her much. It never had before. And assassination was bound to be just as lucrative, if not more so, than larceny. So why was she hesitant? Perhaps it was the nature in which she was recruited. Or perhaps the bizarre demeanor of her recruiter. Eventually, curiosity and the prospect of the power over other's lives had caused her to journey to the southwest reaches of Skyrim, to a corner of the Falkreath hold, to a dark and forbidding door. Those same feelings carried her a couple steps more to stand directly in front of the door.

"What is the music of life?" whispered several raspy voices in unison she heard in her mind rather than out loud. It was a bit disconcerting, but also quite intriguing.

"Silence, my brother." She answered.

The door slowly opened inward and she stepped into the darkened passageway, carved into the stone, beyond.

On instinct, she dropped into a sneaking crouch and made her way down the dimly lit passage. It sloped downward and to the left, ending at a small cave that was well lit with torches. On the far side, leaning on her hands over a table, stood a Nord woman, her blonde tresses cascading down just past her shoulders. Sable didn't step into the room immediately. She waited patiently surveying the room to be sure, as best as she could, that there were no other people or surprises lurking. She couldn't, however, see around the corner to the right where the passageway opened into the cave. She would have to just take the risk and step out into the light at some point.

Reasoning that she was here by invitation, and also hoping she wasn't being foolish, she stood to her full height and stepped into the room. As soon as she was heard, the woman at the other side turned to see her. It was the same woman that had kidnapped and tested her in the shack. She could tell from her hazel eyes. The woman smiled.

"Ah, at last! I hope you found the place, all right." She said, giving a friendly wave, gesturing her to come closer.

Sable crossed the distance between them in a couple steps. "Yes, it wasn't terribly difficult, though the door is well hidden. What happens now?"

"Well, what happens now is you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You're a part of the Family, after all. This, as you can see is our Sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim. So get comfortable."

Sable thought it a bit amusing to hear a den of assassins described as the safest place in Skyrim, still she figured there would be any number of things to get used to within the Dark Brotherhood.

"Here is a set of armor more befitting your new place in the world." She said, handing Sable a set of the same black and dark red leather armor. She couldn't tell why, but it had a slightly different feel to it than any other leather she had come across before. "I am Astrid, the head of our family here. Go and meet the others."

Sable turned in the direction of Astrid's gesture and saw another passageway leading down, further into the cave. It was shorter than the first, but before she reached the end, she heard voices float up to her from the cavern beyond. On instinct, she froze to listen before moving on.

"Festus, how'd your latest go?" a deep rich voice asked. "Wasn't it some young noble?"

"It went rather well." A voice made of gravel replied. "I used a new destruction spell I've been working on. Nearly turned him inside out. It was quite messy."

"And you Babette. How'd yours go?" A female voice chimed in. "Some old man, yes?"

"It was such fun," came the answer. If Sable hadn't known better she would have said it belonged to a child. "I used the candy trick again." The voice changed, mimicking a supremely old man. "Would the sweetie like a sweetie?" The voice change back to that of a young girl's. "Oh yes, sir! Let's go through this alleyway, it's a shortcut to the candy store." The old man's voice came back. "Why aren't you such a pretty one. Wait, your teeth. No! Nooooooo!"

There was a burst of laughter. Then a raspy voice joined the conversation. "And what about yourss, Arnbjorn? A Khajiit merchant, right?"

The young voice piped in again. "Oh, how adorable! The big dog chasing a kitten."

Another burst of laughter, before the answer came.

"The cat was a mercenary and it took me nearly a week to track him down." This voice spoke quite angrily and was gravely as well, though not as much as the first. "I tore him apart when I caught him. Perhaps I'll use his fur coat to make a new jacket!"

There was more laughter. The white haired Nord stood still listening for more as the laughter died away, but the group conversation was apparently over.

"Have we become suddenly shy?" Astrid startled her. By the Eight, the woman was uncannily quiet. This was the second time the assassin leader had snuck up on her. For one that was always used to having the situation reversed, it was rather unnerving. "Come, I will take you to meet the others."

It was then that Sable realized she had not moved. It looked like the overly cautious habits Brynjolf had pounded into her would die hard.

Before she could say anything in her defense, Astrid began walking down the passageway before them, not waiting to hear any explanation her newest recruit would offer. Sable followed her out of the passageway. It opened into a much larger cavern that served as the large common area for the guild. There was a smallish pool of water to her right that fed the smallest of streams that flowed out the back of the large cavern through a small crack in the wall. Immediately to her left was an area set in with a forge, grinding wheel, and workbench. It looked to be a fully functioning black smith right there in the cavern. A large, grumpy-looking Nord man sat at the grind wheel sharpening a huge double bladed axe. He had a light blonde beard and long hair.

Astrid strode toward him. "Arnbjorn, this is our newest recruit, Sable." She turned back to Sable slightly. "This is Arnbjorn, my husband."

Before she could say anything, Arnbjorn addressed her. "Before you get to thinking of us getting to know each other, let me tell you all you need to know." He said aggressively. "I'm a werewolf. I like killing people. I love my wife. I hate annoying people. And the color blue gives me headaches. We probably won't be friends, so the more you can leave me alone, the better."

"Arn, you could at least try to be nicer to our newest addition." Astrid scolded before shuffling Sable off to the next meeting. "Don't worry about him, I'm sure he'll come around to you with time." She assured her.

Before she could really contemplate the implications of a werewolf, Astrid led her further into the cavern back towards the pool of water, where she saw a very dark-skinned Redguard man crouching near the pool. He got up and faced them as they approached. His trimmed mustache grew across his upper lip and out into his beard that grew down below his chin and was gathered together into a gold band. He wore a scimitar in a scabbard at his hip.

"Nazir, this is Sable, the newest member of our family." Astrid introduced her.

"Greetings, sister." Nazir said with a rich deep voice. "I hope you survive long enough for me to learn your name."

Astrid shot him a look – which he completely ignored – but did not respond to his comment. Instead, she led Sable towards a dark corner of the cave near a ledge where some stairs had been carved out of the stone in order to reach the higher level of the cave.

As they drew near, the shadows under the ledge, near the stairs, moved and out stepped an Argonian covered in dark green scales with large horns growing from the back of his head and several smaller tusks along his jaw line. He was wearing the same black and red armor as Astrid. It was disconcerting to Sable that she never saw him sitting there. She was a good thief and an even better sneak. It was unsettling that she hadn't known the lizard was there.

"Sable, this is Veezara." The introductions continued. "Veezara, Sable is new to the family."

"Welcome, ssisster." The Argonian said, his speech marked with slight hissing. His voice was raspy but full of genuine warmth. "I am Veezara, the lasst of the Shadowsscaless. Pleasse let me know if I can assssisst you in any way."

After the first two, Sable hadn't expected any friendliness among the so called family so she was caught a bit off guard by Veezara.

"Shadowscale?" She inquired.

"Yess." Veezara answered, again without a hint of malice in his voice. "It used to be in Black Marsh that any who hatched under the ssign of the Shadow were taken by the Dark Brotherhood and trained from birth to be assssassssinss. We, then sserve the king until we come of age. At that point, we are accepted into the Dark Brotherhood. But alass. I am the lasst of my kind. My order is extinct."

She wanted to talk more with Veezara, but Astrid, apparently, had more people for her to meet. "Thank you, Veezara, for such a warm welcome. I trust you will help our sister with anything she needs."

"Of course." The lizard enthused before sinking back into the shadows under the ledge. It was uncanny how he seemed to just disappear into them. Sable resolved that she would have to have him show her that trick.

Astrid directed her up the stairs and through another short passage that opened into yet another cave. This one was well lit and seemed to serve as the assassins guild's apothecary. There was a set of shelves on the wall near her as well as on the opposite wall along with a long table, several chairs, an enchanting alter, and an alchemy table complete with a mortar and pestle, alembic, retort, and calcinator. This room had three occupants who all turned to gaze at her when they entered. One was an extremely old man wearing black and red robes to her left. Directly across from her was a dunmer wearing a hooded set of the same black and red robes. But it was the girl, aged about 10 to 12, sitting at the opposite side of the table that caught Sable's attention the most.

The man, she learned, was named Festus Krex and he was even more crotchety than Arnbjorn. He wore robes since he was a mage and preferred turning his contracts into ash. The dark elf was Gabriella, who was also a mage, but specialized more in the healing magics – which Festus considered a waste of time – mainly using poisons to finish her work. She was also quite warm and friendly, welcoming Sable into the family. But the child was the most shocking of everyone she had met. She sat there while Astrid introduced her to the other two, though it looked like she might burst from the wait. Finally, Astrid brought her before the girl.

"Is this our new sister?" she asked unable to contain her enthusiasm any longer.

"Yes, Babette," Astrid chuckled, "This is Sable."

"We're all so excited to have you here. A part of the Family." The child enthused.

"Not of all us, Babette. Don't speak out of turn. I, for one, don't care."

"Shush, Festus. That's enough from you for now." Astrid shot back at him.

Sable stood stunned. "How … how old are you, child?" She asked.

Babette, giggled. "Nearly 300." She smiled quite wide and that's when Sable spotted her long, pointed incisors. "Vampirism tends to keep one remarkably … fresh."

The surprises just kept coming with this one. "You're a … vampire?"

"Yep." She answered with the exuberance of a child. "Don't let my appearance throw you off. I'm older than you. A lot older. Getting bitten by a vampire when you're ten will do that to a girl. It's been quite a boon, looking like a child. No one ever suspects a thing. My targets make the mistake of not perceiving me as a threat. Last mistake they ever make."

A forever ten year old, 300 year old vampire with quite the devious side of her? This guild had everything, Sable thought.

"Come, sister." Astrid beckoned. "I'll show you to your room. I'm sure you'll want to rest from your long journey before we share our evening meal."

Astrid led a bewildered Sable back through the passageway they had come. They crossed to the other side of the large cavern and into another set of passageways in the caves. Eventually they came to a hallway of doors. Astrid led her down the hall to the last door on the left.

"Here is your room. These quarters are your own and no one else's. Rest up and join us for the evening meal. If you need anything before then, don't hesitate to ask any of us." Astrid grabbed both of her shoulders in an affectionate squeeze. "Welcome home, sister." She gave Sable a warm smile and then left her to explore her room.

Sable opened the door and went in. It wasn't lavishly furnished, but wasn't bare either. The door opened in about the middle of the room. To her right was a desk complete with ink, quills, and rolls of paper. To her left, two chairs for her to position wherever she desired. Further down the wall to her right was a mannequin and several wall racks on which to hang her armor and weapons when not out on a contract. Directly across from those was a set of shelves that had already been stocked with various liquid-filled bottles and vials. There was note pinned to it.

"Some healing potions and some helpful poisons. Enjoy, and let me know if you need more." It was signed by Babette.

On the far wall was a bed covered with fur blankets, with a sizable chest resting just beyond the foot of it. But it was the object lying on the bed that caused Sable's jaw to drop open.

Resting on the bed, in perfect condition, was the beautiful red dress trimmed in cream and gold that she had worn to the banquet in Windhelm the night she had stolen the broche from the very drunk Jarl of Falkreath. She couldn't believe it. She had made her peace on never seeing, much less wearing, that dress again. And there it was; a gift from her new family.

She picked it up and held it to her body and twirled around a couple of times. She smiled as a tear slowly made its way down her pale check. After all the years, after all the searching all this time, finally, she was truly home.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter begins the second part of The Legend of The White Deathbell. I appreciate so much the reviews, follows, and favorites. Thank you and enjoy!**

* * *

Now this was living. The white haired assassin crept along the dark corridors of the dwemer ruin and couldn't help smiling. There were four dead brigands scattered about the maze of dwarven corridors and caves behind with her target still to be found somewhere ahead. Not one had known she was there before her dagger had raced across their throats. This kind of work suited her. Unlike the thieves guild of Riften, the Dark Brotherhood held no qualms in her killing her way to the targets. And not only was she paid for what she loved doing, but she often had the opportunity to loot the places she visited and the people she ended and the guild let her keep it or helped her sell it. Assassination was indeed far more lucrative than anything she'd done as a thief. While her first three contracts had been boringly easy, she had walked away with 1500 septims. She had made more in a few days than she would have in probably 3 months in thieves guild. In fact, the single highest paying job she had done was for an oddity for which Delvin Mallory, the elder statesmen of the guild, had paid a whopping 200 septims.

Her only regret, if she held any at all, might be that she had not found the Family sooner. Though she wasn't sure how that would have been possible. She was only contacted when she had inadvertently stolen a contact from the Dark Brotherhood. She had heard of a boy performing the Black Sacrament, a ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood, in Windhelm and, out of curiousity, investigated. The boy had thought her an assassin and refused to hear otherwise. He demanded that she kill the abusive headmistress of an orphanage to which he had been sent. Sable had accepted and decided to make sure the boy's story was true. While spying on the occupants of the orphanage, she witnessed the old woman who ran the place, Grelod "the Kind", mercilessly whip a boy for an offense he had not committed. The beating was so brutal that it brought her back to her own past and the abuses she had suffered from a "kindly" inn keeper that took her in after she had been orphaned. Grelod died swiftly, gargling as her blood poured out of her throat. When Sable, went back to the boy that hired her and reported the old woman dead, he had pressed her to accept an old family heirloom, a large silver plate with embellishments worked into the edges.

A few days later, she had been kidnapped and tested by Astrid, the leader of the assassin's guild. Sable had passed the test and was given the offer to join the Dark Brotherhood. Afterwards, she made her way down to the sanctuary and had never looked back.

The reception had been mixed when Astrid had introduced her to her new Family. Two men hadn't seemed to want anything to do with her. Arnbjorn, Astrid's husband and a werewolf, had come around and now seemed to accept her. Festus Krex, on the other hand, was nothing but a curmudgeon who barely tolerated anyone. There was also a Redguard name Nazir. At first, he was quite guarded, but after she had successfully completed the first few minor contracts he had given her, he opened up much more and Sable found his sarcasm to be amusing every now and then. Veezara, the Argonian, had welcomed her right away and was quite interesting. She had talked to him a bit about his history being a Shadowscale, one trained from birth as an assassin.

But it was Gabriella, a beautiful dark elf, and Babette, a ten year looking girl who was really a 300 year old vampire and master alchemist, that had made her feel most welcome. Babette had given her a most exuberant welcome and, Sable had learned later, had been responsible for procuring a beautiful red dress trimmed with gold and cream for her. It was one that the thief-turned-assassin had reluctantly left behind during a job for the thieves guild.

She had taken a liking to Babette immediately. There was something about how she seemed to dance back and forth between the long-lived malicious killer and 10 year old girl that intrigued Sable, possibly a reflection of what had been stolen from her and what she now considered herself to be. Unfortunately, the white haired assassin had not been able to spend much time with the guild's eldest member, as Astrid informed her that her sneaking would need work before they sent her out on any major contracts.

At first, Sable was a touch insulted by the suggestion that she needed training. She figured that her time spent in the thieves guild had made her quite stealthy. Astrid had not harshly overruled her, but rather calmly explained that while she had talent, it needed to be refined, and that if she could learn some of the methods the Family could teach her, she could not only get the drop on a Vigilant of Stendarr in broad daylight, but it would also make it very difficult for anything to do the same to her.

Upon further argument, Astrid took her to a small room in the sanctuary instructed her to stand in the middle of it and then blindfolded her.

"Now, I'm going out into the hall and I will sneak back in." The leader explained. "You call me out as soon as you're aware of me. Make sure to state where I am so we all know no one is cheating. If I manage to touch you before you are aware, I win and you'll be considered dead. If you win, I'll concede that you need no training. Deal?"

Sable smiled, knowing this was a game she would easily win. "Agreed."

"Then we begin as soon as I leave the room."

A moment later, the footsteps went quiet and Sable knew the game had begun. She had always considered herself very intuitive and aware of her surroundings. The rookie assassin concentrated on what she was feeling. She had always felt she had a stronger sense of awareness than most and that she could almost feel when things changed or inhabitants moved in her general vicinity.

But she felt nothing. She washed all the thoughts from her mind and centered her awareness on the room. Still nothing. Had Astrid even come in yet?

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. "You're dead," a silken voice chimed. "Care to try again."

Flustered, Sable nodded. How had Astrid done that? She never heard a sound or felt any shift in the room?

"Begin." She heard followed by a few footsteps before it went quiet again.

This time, Sable really dug into herself; into her awareness, determined not to be embarrassed again. She took note of the damp smell of the room; took in the gentle crackling of the wall torches. The room was still and quiet.

And then, came the tap. "Dead again." She nearly growled in frustration. Three more times they played the game and three more times Astrid "killed" her, each time faster than the one before. Sable ripped the blindfold off her head in rage. The guild's matron just smirked. "Let's try again. But this time I will play the victim. We'll see how good you are."

A grin broke out on Sable's face as soon as the blindfold was on Astrid. Now, she could give Astrid a taste of her own infuriating medicine. She walked out and then dropped into a crouch and began to silently creep back in and towards the source of her consternation. As soon as she had fully come through the door, Astrid voice rang out.

"You've made it a whole two steps through the door. Try again." Sable was stunned. She prided herself on being completely unknown up until the moment she made the kill. She wasn't even in striking distance. Perhaps a good leap could close the distance, but she didn't figure that any assassin worthy of the profession did much desperate lunging at their victims. She stood and walked back out.

This time she went much slower, taking her time to make sure she was absolutely silently. She had just about halved the distance when Astrid's voice again foiled her attempt.

"Much better this time. I figure you have about 3 more steps until you strike. Shall we try once more?" Sable stood and stomped out of the room.

Moments later, Sable rounded the corner of the door and her target came into view. The tall blonde Nord had been a great source of frustration this day. Her pale blue-silver eyes focused as she used every ounce of skill to sneak up on Astrid. She passed her previous mark and still no utterance, she crept closer and still closer. Sable was there. She raised her hand for the tap, when her prey suddenly stepped away and spoke.

"Now, that is impressive." There was genuine admiration in her voice. "It's been a long time since any one has got that close to me. Except for Veezara. No one has ever beaten him in either role at this game." She said as removed her blindfold. "You removed your boots on this attempt?" she paused considering the tactic. "It displays a willingness to adapt oneself. Still the overachiever, I see."

Despite her frustration being near boiling point at having almost had Astrid and still failing, Sable couldn't help but smile at seeing the smile on her leader's face.

"You have real potential." The matron purred. "I'll see to it that Veezara instructs you from now on. I look forward to seeing just how good you can become."

* * *

Sable was a swinging pendulum of pride and rage as Astrid explained the task of training their newest sister to Veezara.

"She's got some natural talent." The chief assassin explained. "I need you to sharpen it into real skill. She's shown some initiative and adaptability, but thinks her prowess better than it really is and lets go of her focus sometimes. I also thought of you because, like you, she seems to favor daggers so make sure she knows how to use them when she's fighting more than just an unsuspecting throat." She then looked over and smiled warmly at Sable. "She's quite the overachiever. Make sure to challenge her in order to bring out her best."

Veezara walked over and smiled into her pale blue-silver eyes. "Do not trouble yoursself over her wordss to much." Her reptilian brother assured her as if reading her thoughts. "Asstrid actually cares for uss deeply and wantss uss protected. One way of doing that iss by honing our sskillss. I look forward to assssissting you in your growth."

The training Veezara provided had been invaluable to improving her sneaking abilities. Since the Argonian's skill was too great to make the game anything but counter-productive, he took to watching Sable play the game with others willing to help (mainly Babette and Gabriella) and then offered advice.

"Don't just think of what you are aware of. You target hass awarenessss of their own. Think about the thingss they are aware of, thingss they could be aware of, and thingss they should be aware of but are not before you approach. Take time to sstudy your target and learn their aptitudess. Thiss will help you determine the amount of sstealth you need and whether you can ssacrifice any in favor of sspeed." He instructed her. "Alsso, apply these ssame principless to yoursself and you will find that you will be harder to ssneak up on as well. Be mindful about what ssomeone elsse would be aware of about you. Ssee your ssurroundingss from as many pointss of view as possssible."

Sable didn't stop practicing outside of her trainings. She was on a mission to best Astrid at the game so she took to sneaking up on other members of the guild whenever the opportunity came. At first a couple of them were annoyed, but as she explained the purpose, the Family, except Festus of course, embraced it and not only helped by trying to sneak up on her as well, but also made sure that Astrid didn't find out. They all hoped that the rookie would get the better of their leader. She quickly learned that if she was to sneak up on Arnbjorn, she better be downwind. She also sparred with anyone willing. She quickly became ever more proficient at fighting with daggers against all kinds of weapons.

A couple of weeks later, the time came.

"She iss ready Misstressss." Veezara proclaimed to Astrid as she was standing over her table.

"Already?" the matron was surprised how quickly the shadowscale had returned. "She is truly ready to be tested again?"

"Of coursse, Misstressss." The Argonion replied. "You told me not to bring her to you before it wass time."

"Such a short time." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood mused. "Still the overachiever, it seems."

"Indeed, Misstressss. I haven't sseen one abide in the shadowss as she in a long time. She sstill needss to masster fighting with her daggerss, but if she remainss cautiouss and unsseen, she should do quite well."

"I see. Where is …"

Astrid's forthcoming question was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

"You're dead." She heard Sable's voice full of glee just behind her right ear.

Astrid spun to face her newest sister grinning brilliantly. For a short moment, she was a bit angry at being tricked, but the emotion quickly melted to intrigue as she considered just how much Sable had improved in such a short time. "Well, well. Impressive. Let's see how good you've become. Let the game begin."

Astrid lifted a blindfold out of belt pocket on her armor and gave her a questioning look, as if challenging her to play the game in her guildmaster's domain. The fair-skinned Nord, closed her eyes and leaned forward a bit, accepting her mistress' challenge.

As the "victim", Astrid bested her just once. Sable sank herself into the techniques Veezara had taught her. Though she was blindfolded, it was almost as if she could still see. And not just see, but see the room from nearly every angle. It was like she could feel it when the shadows moved or when the stone around her accepted new weight upon even if it did so silently. Still, Astrid was very good. The matron's first two attempts got her within just a couple of steps from "striking". On Astrid's third and final attempt, Sable was straining to sense anything when she felt a pinch on the back of her leg just below her rump that made her jump in surprise. She could not suppress a small yelp either.

"You're dead." The silken voice called out, laden with amusement.

Sable turned and removed the blindfold to and looked down to her still crouching leader. Astrid was barefoot. The white haired assassin smirked.

"Copying the little sister's methods?" she asked with the satisfaction of a fox in a chicken coop.

"Adapting." Astrid replied with a smirk of her own. "A promising young recruit once showed me the value of it. Ready to see how you do as the predator?"

In answer, the "promising young recruit" tossed the blindfold to Astrid and began to walk from the small room.

Sable got to her leader on the first attempt and almost had her on the second when Astrid called her out. They were even with one attempt left. There was no way she was losing the game, especially as the predator. And there was no way she was going barefoot to accomplish the win. She had to one up her mistress. Then an idea came to her and she had to suppress a giggle at the thought.

She stalked silently into the room spotting her target. But instead of making straight for the blindfolded woman, she took a more circuitous route. Every step was painstakingly slow as she silently and carefully made her way around Astrid. There were times that she simply waited in one spot when she picked up the subtle movement of her prey shifting her weight from one foot to the other every so often. This was taxing her abilities to their limits, but she just had to pull this off.

She paused about halfway through her circle around Astrid at an unremarkable vase that held a growing deathbell plant. This was the big gamble in her attempt to one up her mistress. Sable slowly and silently drew a dagger and brought it up to the flower's stem. She gently eased the stem against her blade until it finally gave way without a sound. Sheathing her dagger, and placing stem in her teeth, she resumed stalking around the edge of the room.

She was now directly in front of Astrid. One more step and she was there. Her hazel-eyed prey was still unaware. Here it was. She had her. Quickly, Sable stood up and pushed the stem of the deathbell flower into her matron's hair.

Startled, Astrid yelped loudly and jumped a couple of steps backwards. She tore the blindfold off before noticing the deep purple and blue flowers hanging above her forehead. She stared daggers at her white haired sister, her face flushed red in anger. Sable was having trouble suppressing the giggles at seeing how ridiculous her leader looked. It was then that they both looked to Veezara, who had been standing in a corner to watch how his protégée would perform, and saw his eyes wide and mouth hanging open at what he had just witnessed. The sight of their reptilian brother standing in shock was too much and both women burst into laughter. Astrid walked over to Sable and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Well done, sister. That was the most impressive win I've ever seen at the game. I hope to never accept a flower from you again."


	7. Chapter 7

Just a day later, Astrid approached Sable as she was sitting at the table in a cave used as a dining area in the large complex of caves the Dark Brotherhood called home. Gabriella and Babette had joined her for her evening meal.

"I have a contract for you, my little white deathbell." She stated. "This will be your first major contract." The newest member of the Family beamed at hearing she was being entrusted with an important assignment. "An apothecary's assistant name Muiri has performed the Black Sacrament. You are to go Markarth and discuss the contract with her. Report back when the contract is done."

"Are there any special rules I need to take into account for this contract?"

Astrid turned a puzzled look on her newest sister for a moment before realizing what might be the cause of such a strange question.

"Thieves guild habits hard to let go of, perhaps?" She answered. "Just don't get killed, sister. I suspect we just wouldn't be the same without you."

There was a matter of fact quality to her voice that Sable found interesting. It didn't bother her, she realized, but interesting. She wondered how many Astrid had sent on their first contracts that never came back. She also vowed to never ask a stupid question again. To the Void with the thieves and their silly rules.

"How unusual." Gabriella stated a moment after their mistress had left the room.

"What do you mean?" Sable asked.

"Astrid usually visits those wishing to hire us herself and sets up the contracts and their details and then returns and passes them on to us." The dunmer replied. "It's exceedingly rare for her to opt for one of us to meet the contract, let alone that person be our newest member."

Oddly enough there didn't seem to be any trace of jealousy in the dark elf's voice.

"Then why would she send me?" Sable asked, suddenly unsure of what earlier seemed a moment to look upon with pride. Was Astrid so upset about the game that she was trying to get her in some kind of trouble or even killed by sending her into a trap? If that was the case, then the guild's matron was a darn good actress.

"She must trust in you and your abilities a great deal," Gabriella answered and, as if reading her thoughts, added, "I don't think she means you harm. I don't think you've angered her in any lasting way."

"What makes you so sure?"

"The nickname for one." The dunmer answered reassuringly. "She spoke it as a term of endearment. There was no malice in her voice that I heard. I think you really impressed her when you stuck the flower in her hair. Perhaps this is her way of showing you that by trusting you to meet with a contract yourself."

The story of Sable's besting of Astrid at the game had spread quickly and she was still basking in the glory of it a day later.

"It's great, isn't it!" Babette chimed in. "Our white deathbell is growing up. Perhaps someday, all of Skyrim will speak of the White Deathbell in hushed and fearful tones."

Laughter broke out among the three women.

"Yes, and mothers will use the legend to scare their children into behaving," Gabriella added.

It was then, that Sable had an idea. The Legend of the White Deathbell sounded intriguing. She had seen the power legends could hold over people, especially once the dragons had returned. Could she really exert that much influence and sway over a whole nation? The laughter had stopped now that Babette and Gabriella had seen the look on her face.

"Babette," the newly christened White Deathbell turned to the child looking vampire, "Could I persuade you to help me with an experiment in horticulture?"

A smile drew across the face of the guild's resident green thumb. "Sounds like that devious mind of yours has thought of something positively wonderful. Of course, I'll help!"

Sable immediately got up from the table, turned and made for the alchemy room. Babette, got up and chased after her.

Once in the cave, her pale blue-silver eyes swept her surroundings. The room was empty with the exception of Lis, Gabriella's frostbite spider that had made her nest in the lower section of the chamber. Sable was still trying to get used to the large spider. She'd had to defend herself from frostbite spiders many times and though Lis had never made an aggressive gesture towards her and even seemed quite domesticated, the sight was still a bit disconcerting to her. She wondered if her initial instinct to grab out a dagger would ever subside. She had to push it from her mind though. She had called Babette in here for something very important.

"So, little sister," Babette's child voice rang out from behind her, "what kind of concoction has your pretty head dreamed up?"

"I'm not looking to develop a potion or poison, Babette." Sable answered. "But since you're a master alchemist, I figured you would be the person to tell me whether or not what I want to do is even possible."

The forever child looked intrigued but didn't respond other than to lift an eyebrow in a look of curiosity.

"Babette, how difficult is it to change a flower?"

"Change a flower into what?" the vampire asked.

"To change its appearance." Sable clarified. "How hard is it to change a flower's color? To change the shade of its petals."

"That depends. If you're looking to make it a darker color, we could simply dye it."

Sable took a step over to one of the many planters and plucked the head from the stem of a deathbell and held it up for Babette. Understanding flooded the eldest assassin's eyes.

"You want to create a white deathbell?" Babette asked with wonder. "It would take cross pollinating the plants for generations. If it's even possible. Why would you want to do this?"

"Power!" The curvy, white haired assassin answered empathically, but almost breathlessly.

"What do you mean?" the vampire questioned with a large dose of caution in her voice.

"You and Gabriella said it earlier, the Legend of the White Deathbell. A name to be feared throughout all of Skyrim."

"We were only joking around, Sable. Just a bit of fun to celebrate your first major contract and to inspire what you may become, a master assassin."

"It doesn't matter that it was meant in fun." The excited Nord woman leaned forward, now holding the small bit of stem in both hands in front of her. "The words were an inspiration. To hold that kind of power over an entire nation. To be a legend. How many times does one have that chance? I must try."

Babette was astonished. The idea her friend had was so ambitious, it perhaps bordered on insanity. It was one thing for a person to become a legend many years after they passed, but to attempt to make oneself into a legend was almost grandiose to the point of delusion. Still it intrigued her; she wanted to see if her new sister could indeed force herself as a legend onto an unsuspecting Skyrim. She knew then that she was a full believer in the White Deathbell.

"Of course I will help you in this, I'm not just sure that what you're asking can even be done."

"Please try, Babette." Sable pleaded. "I bet you've forgotten more about plants and alchemy than I will ever know. If anyone can do this, I'm sure it's you."

Babette smiled. "You can stop trying to butter me up now. You're not very good at it anyway." She stuck her tongue out at her. "Of course I will help you, sister."

* * *

Markarth had provided a bit of excitement. While the journey there was rather uneventful and boring, she must have walked through the city gates at just the right time. A moment after she entered the city, a man standing at one of the many open market stalls just inside the city pulled out a dagger and plunged it into the back of a woman standing near him shouting something about glory and the Forsworn. The woman fell to the ground bleeding profusely, immediately followed by screams which alerted two of the city guards that began running over to see what the commotion was.

The man turned and saw Sable and charged straight for her. She had worn a rather plain blue dress in order to avoid attracting attention to herself and he apparently thought of her as an easy escape route. As soon as he began his run at her, the fair-skinned assassin subtly drew a dagger of her own.

Two steps away, the man reversed his grip on his dagger and drew his right arm back in what was certain to be the precursor to a wild attack. She reversed her grip as well so that the blade ran along her forearm. It appeared that he hadn't noticed that this innocent looking woman was armed as well. Another step and he swung his arm in a high arc, trying to slash at her neck or chest.

Sable easy ducked his arm, but kept her weight on her left foot using it to pivot around his right hip. As she completed her circle around her now surprised attacker, she brought her right arm up, swinging her hand out so the blade was now perpendicular to her arm. There was a dull thud as the dagger slammed into the man's back up to the hilt. The man fell dead instantly, his spine severed from the disguised assassin's counterstrike.

The guards ran over and Sable now found herself with a crowd of both guards and onlookers. So much for remaining inconspicuous. One of the guard's statements confirmed her frustration.

"Well, you certainly know how to handle yourself, don't you?" The guard blurted out obviously astonished by what he had seen. "Still, my thanks for not letting that scum escape. If you don't mind, we'll need to ask you some questions about what happened."

Sable knew better than to refuse the request. The guard was not asking, but rather stating what he was expecting of her. She needed to meet with her contract, Muiri, and that meant she would have to indulge the idiot's "investigation" and endure a delay.

She answered the guards' questions honestly, but the delay kept her until the sun was beginning to set. Although she had arrived to the city late in the afternoon, it still annoyed the white-haired assassin that she was setback and would have to wait until the next day to make contact with the apothecary's assistant. After explaining yet again that she hadn't seen much; only that the lunatic had murdered the woman before coming at her and that she had simply defended herself, Sable was finally allowed to leave and found the Silver-Blood Inn.

She purchased a room and a meal and went to a corner of the main hall to eat. She found that the story of her dropping the Forsworn fanatic was already the exciting topic of the day. As she overheard one recounting of how she had cut the man's head off, it surprised her how quickly the exaggerating had started. She rose and went to her room to rest before moving on to her true reason for coming to Markarth in the morning.

* * *

A brief conversation with the inn keeper the next morning pointed Sable to The Hag's Cure, the only apothecary in Markarth. She chose to fit her dress over her leather armor provided to her by the Dark Brotherhood as best she could. The dress strained a bit in places and looked odd with small peeks black and red leather, but otherwise it was serviceable.

The fair-skinned assassin made her way through the town and up several flights of stairs to get to the higher terraces of the city until she came to a section of the city where several of the city's "buildings" where built right into the stone of the mountain. A wooden sign painted simply with what looked like a bottle full of liquid marked one door as an alchemy shop.

Sable pushed open the heavy doors and walked into The Hag's Cure. There were a few stairs leading down to a slightly depressed level after a short hallway. Just beyond the stairs, behind an L shaped counter, stood a rather old woman.

"I'm looking for Muiri," the assassin stated as she reached the woman.

"Muiri! Someone is asking for you." The crone rasped loudly looking to her left.

Sable turned her gaze to her right where the woman looked and saw a pretty young Breton rise from an alchemy table and walk over. She was about a head shorter than the white haired Nord with short light brown hair with a single braid running from the top of her head down the her left side to tuck behind her ear. She also had a facial tattoo consisting of two light blue stripes running from her cheekbones horizontally under eyes until not quite meeting near the bridge of her nose.

"May I help you?" The assistant asked.

Sable looked to the old woman that hadn't moved away from the counter. "If you'll excuse us, I have a private matter to discuss with Muiri."

"Bah, this is my shop," the old woman replied. "I don't have to leave. You can take yer business outside."

"That's fine." The assassin replied. "Join me outside, Muiri."

The alchemy apprentice followed the taller woman outside. As soon as she was outside, she turned a corner and found a somewhat empty stretch of the street.

"You requested that the Dark Brotherhood contact you using the Black Sacrament." Sable didn't figure there was much point in beating around the bush.

"It … it actually worked?" The Breton's voice full of confusion and perhaps awe, "I wasn't sure the Dark Brotherhood existed anymore. Are you really an assassin?"

"Indeed I am." Sable pulled aside some of the drab dress to reveal some of her black and sanguine leathers. "So, tell me. What is the contract you're offering?"

"I want you to kill Alain Dufont." Muiri's voice hardened with bitterness and pain. "I want him hunted down and murdered like the dog he is."

"I need more to go on than that." Sable prompted after a moment of silence.

"Of course, sorry." The assistant replied. "I did not know it when we were together, but Alain is actually the leader of a band of cutthroats … bandits. They're holed up in some old dwarven ruin. Raldbthar. It's near Windhelm. They use it as their base. It's where they stage their raids." The anger permeated her voice more and more as she talked. "I want you to go to that ruin, find Alain Dufont, and kill him. I do not care about his friends. Do whatever you want with them. But Alain has to die!"

"I see." Sable offered. "And payment?"

"Once Alain is dead, I'll pay you. In gold. I have saved up a bit. I hope that will do." The assassin was about to accept the contract and leave when Muiri spoke up again. "But … well … there is one more thing. If you're interested."

Sable turned back to her. "I'm listening."

"If you can, I want you to kill someone else as well. You don't have to. Not as part of our deal, but if you do I'll pay you even more." Without waiting for a response, the Breton continued. "It's Nilsine Shatter-Shield, in Windhelm. If Nilsine dies too, I'll make it worth your while."

Being her first contract, she wasn't sure if it broke the guild rules, but Sable was intrigued. She also figured there was more to this contract then she'd been told so far.

"Alright, tell me the full story. Why do you want Alain and Nilsine dead?"

Muiri took a breath to steady her nerves. "I went to Windhelm to see the Shatter-Shields. They were old and dear friends and in mourning. Frigga, their younger daughter, was killed recently. Murdered. I met Alain in a tavern while I was … drinking my sadness away. He was handsome … and charming. He said I was the beautiful lily of his dreams." Her voice was lower now, brimming with pain and sorrow. "Alain made all the pain just … go away. But it was all lies. Alain used me." The anger was now starting creep back into her voice. "He ruined my name, destroyed my friendship with the Shatter-Shields. Do you know why Alain was in Windhelm? He heard about Frigga's murder. He wanted to befriend the family in their grief and rob them blind! Alain used me to get close to my friends and now they all think I'm some kind of … monster. Alain took my life! And now I'm taking his."

"And Nilsine Shatter-Shield?" Sable asked. "Why does she need to die?"

"Don't you see? I was like a daughter to Tova." The Breton replied. "A sister to Nilsine and Frigga, but the family refuses to believe my innocence. No matter what I say. Couldn't they understand that I was used? That I was grieving for Frigga too? No! They treated me like garbage. Threw me away! With Nilsine dead, maybe then Tova will realize what she's lost, huh? Maybe then she'll see that I was just as much a daughter as the others. And if not … may she drown in her own tears!"

The assassin stood silent for a moment. Spiteful little thing, this one was. It was almost impressive.

"Is there anything else I should know about this contract?"

"I planned to kill Alain myself, you know. Nilsine too. But I lost my nerve. I even brewed a special poison. Lotus Extract. Maybe you could use it? Just coat your weapon with it. Then … you get the idea."

"I'll accept the contract." Sable announced trying to sound official. "It will be done."

"Make them pay for what they did to me!" Muiri answered.

The white haired assassin turned and walked away, leaving the apothecary assistant to return to her duties. Looked like she was in for another long boring carriage ride across Skyrim. Sable wondered if perhaps somehow Astrid knew about this and sent her as playful revenge for having bested her at the game.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Spent some time in the hospital and that slowed me down a bit. But I'm back now and chapters should be coming out more regularly. Please leave a review or throw me a PM and let me know what you think. Enjoy. Edward**

* * *

And now here she was in the dwemer ruin of Raldbthar. She found that she loved this part. The hunt for her target. The blood of the four bandits spreading on the floor behind her. This is what she lived for. She was in her element. She was The White Deathbell.

Sable stalked silently in the shadows of a corridor that sloped down further into the earth. Large cylindrical pipes ran along the wall to her right. Not knowing anything about the old dwarven technology, she stayed away from them except when she was forced close to them in order to stay unseen in the shadows. At the bottom of the ramped hallway, the assassin came across her first real barrier.

The bandits had found an old dwemer fire trap and had cleverly rigged it to be constantly spewing a line of fire across the front of the gate on the far side of the room. Killing two birds with one stone, they had also set up a spit, using the same spout of fire to roast several skeever. There was no going around, through, or under the fire trap. There was an opening to another corridor to her left. She began to sneak toward the alternate route, hoping it would circle around in some way and still lead her to Alain Dufont.

After a couple of steps in, the new passage cut sharply to her right and sloped down putting the assassin on a course further still into the ground. She guessed that this was a high traffic passageway since it was much more well lit than some of the others. Up ahead she spotted another Dufont lackey. He was leaning against an opening on the left side of the corridor. By the look of things, he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. Because of the way the torches were placed, there was a length of shadow stretching from where he a standing away from the archway and down deeper into the passage. The hall was wide enough that if she hugged the large pipes on her side of the tunnel, she could stay in the shadows. Sable shook her head. She hoped that this Alain character would be more a challenge than the idiots he had guarding his hideout. She decided to have a bit of fun with this one.

A few moments later, she stepped out of the shadows in front of the sleepy man one step away. His eyes went wide as she just seemed to appear out of thin air. The White Deathbell, closed the step and plunged her steel dagger into his chest just above his sternum, puncturing both his artery and windpipe in a single thrust. The bandit fell away his mouth open in a silent scream of surprise and pain. His eyes remained wide open as the life fled from them. Sable took one step forward and looked through the archway. Beyond it was a small side room that was being used as sleeping quarters for a few of them. There were no others to be found there, so she melted back into the shadows and continued down the sloped hallway towards her prey.

A short while later, Sable rounded a corner on her right and was welcomed into a short passageway cloaked in darkness. There were no lit torch scones to either side of her. The passage was only a few steps long and opened into a large room. In the center of the room, was a decent size firepit, lit with a fire. On one side sat two bandits, a man and a woman. On the other stood a Breton man wearing fine clothes. The assassin did not like the scene. She could easily approach either side undetected, but her cover would be blown as soon as she took out either side. What did work in her favor was that the fire was the only source of light in the room save for a single torch on a ledge behind Dufont, leaving the edges cased in dark shadows.

She figured that going to the seated pair would be her best strategy. That way, when the show down came, it would be one against one. Besides, she just realized, she wanted this piece of trash to know what his con in Windhelm had earned him before he died.

"Are we going pull any raids soon, Dufont?" the man seated asked. "The job you pulled on the Shatter-Shields was nice and all, but some of the men are getting restless."

The man in the fine clothes, apparently Alain Dufont, answered. "You ask me a stupid question again and I'll kill you. I won't have you idiots questioning my leadership. Understood? We'll go on a raid when I say and not before."

Sable had been quietly stalking in the shadow on the right side of the room, opposite of her prey when she spotted a way to cause quite the scene. Up on the ledge at the far side of the room, she spotted a pair of ballistae aimed out over the lower expanse of the room. It would be sure to rattle Dufont if his two companions were suddenly killed by the giant dwarven crossbows. The singular torch on the wall didn't provide much light and she could probably scurry back out of sight before Alain turned his attention to her. But how was she going to get up there?

The assassin searched the edge of the room, her eyes having become quite used to seeing in dim or almost no light thanks to her time with the thieves guild. Her new Family had helped as well without even knowing it. With the exception of the crafting room and the dining hall, the Sanctuary was kept poorly lit as if everyone just felt more comfortable in the shadows. She soon spotted a staircase rising up to the ledge with the ballistae on the far side of the room from where she had entered. She finished crossing the room to reach the stairs, never once having to risk entering the light of the fire. There, she spotted a fourth bandit in the room. He was perched about half way up the stone steps looking down upon the proceedings around the fire, bow in hand.

Alain was starting to gain a small measure of respect in his predator's eyes. If she had cut down the two subordinates and then attacked Dufont, the archer would have wasted no time in emptying his quiver into her. She would have to create some sort of distraction that would get the bowman to leave his post, but still not alarm the others too much. If the distraction was up on the ledge, Dufont would likely send his sniper lackey to investigate rather than go himself.

Sable stooped to find a small stone and then heaved it to the far corner of the ledge above Dufont and the others. The minor clamor it made as it hit floor of the ledge and rolled up again the wall behind served perfectly. The two seated cutthroats rose to their feet immediately and drew their weapons.

Dufont looked to where the sound had come from and then to where he knew is archer to be. "Halver. Go look into that and report."

The assassin didn't even wait for the orders. She started up the steps towards Halver, as soon as he stood and put his back to her. She quietly took the steps 2 at a time to close the distance. He had reached the top of the stairs before she caught up with him. A couple of steps later, he was nearly into the torchlight. But he didn't quite make it.

Sable came up behind him and thrust her knife into his back. She held it horizontally so it would slip between his ribs. The blade sliced into his lung and stole the air from him. He could only make a squeak of a sound as she shoved him forward towards the torch.

From below, it looked like the man had tripped and went sprawling forward crashing into the sconce on mounted on the wall. It was ripped free from the wall as the dying man collided with it before slumping to the floor.

"Halver, you clumsy idiot!" Dufont screamed. "Get that torch back up and go figure out that noise was, now!"

With the added darkness awarded to her from the obstruction of the man's body, Sable quickly made her way to the giant crossbows and took aim. A moment later there was a loud click followed by an arrow the size of a tree limb spearing its way through the woman. Another moment later, another click followed and the man hit the floor speared through.

Dufont pulled up an iron warhammer resting nearby, but otherwise did not move, knowing the ballistae had been spent and his unseen attacker was out of spear sized ammunition.

A moment later, Sable stepped into the firelight opposite the startled Breton in all her dark glory clad in the black and dark red armor of the Dark Brotherhood. Her full red lips parted into a sinister smile.

"Muiri sends her regards."

Dufont returned her smile. "Muiri!? So, what, you're the cow's pathetic champion? Oh now that is rich. I hope you're here to make me some toast with those butter knives of yours."

"I don't how pathetic of an assassin I am," Sable returned, "As far as I can tell, you're the only one I haven't killed yet."

The smile disappeared from the bandit leader's face and was quickly replaced with a sneer. He brought the warhammer up into both hands. "Well then, champion," He spat, "let's get this over with."

The two circled each other for a moment. Sable knew her disadvantage was his reach. A swing from the warhammer could crush her skull well before she was in striking distance. However, the large two-handed hammer was also to her advantage. Something that heavy would be slow to swing. She was in a matchup of strength versus speed. Speed was guaranteed to win, provided it didn't get hit.

Dufont wasted little time. He charged forward with a roar holding his hammer high for a massive sweep, but as he closed the distance, he changed his grip and thrust the hammer out forward like it was a spear. The head of the weapon whistled forward, aimed at collapsing her chest and ending the fight quickly. Sable jumped back a step and brought both daggers down crossed in an X, catching the shaft of the hammer just below the head and deflected down towards the ground. With Dufont now extended and having missed, this was her chance to get inside his reach and strike.

The assassin raced forward not even trying to hold the block. She sidestepped the weapon and started towards the bandit leader ready to bury her daggers into his guts. But Dufont, recognizing that his gamble had been countered, ducked and rolled away.

They faced each other once more, Dufont having recovered his hammer. It was the cutthroat that initiated combat again. He came forward raising the warhammer up to bring it in a downward swing. Sable brought her dagger around in an arc. She had to get the timing right so that when the weapons made contact her counterstrike would be on the down-stroke so that the force of the blow would be mostly deflected away from her. To just block the strike and take the force of the blow with her daggers would be to absorb most of it herself. She learned that lesson hard way with Arnbjorn. She had come away from their very first sparring session with her arms numb for the rest of the day.

By her estimation, her timing was perfect. The brunt of the attack would end up sliding off to the side and, then with Alain overbalanced, she could jam a blade into his ribs. Unfortunately, Dufont changed his grip on the warhammer part way through the swing. He dropped his other hand to the bottom of the shaft. With both hands at the focal point of the swing, there would be much more power when the blow landed. It also meant there was a split-second change in the speed. Sable now knew it would crash in behind her arc.

The assassin held no pretense that she would be able to counter this change so she attempted to leap out of the way. The hammer came down a second later and ripped the dagger out of her trailing hand and just clipped her right foot. She rolled twice after landing from her desperate leap just to try to put some distance between her and her surprisingly skilled opponent.

As she stood, a numbing cold began to creep its way up her calf. The freezing intensified and became quite painful. It was enough to make her limp as she tried to regain her stance and circle with Dufont once more. The warhammer was enchanted with a frost effect. This was quickly irritating the white-haired assassin.

"What's the matter, champion?" Dufont taunted. "Is the touch of Aegisbane too much for you?"

Sable, concentrated on freeing herself from the cold. She was used to it after all. Being a Nord and having spent her whole life in Skyrim it sometimes seemed that she had a tolerance to it and she could resist the cold more so than others. Already she was beginning to feel the warmth return to her lower extremity.

She smiled and looked to her prey as she shook her right leg a bit. "It doesn't bother me much." She smirked at him. She took a step toward him without any sign of the disability.

Dufont growled but did not charge this time. He stalked in slowly, but still kept her at a distance so as not to let the assassin inside his reach. Sable knew she would have to very careful. She now only had one dagger. Anything but a glancing hit from the warhammer would likely end the fight in the Breton's favor. She had to find some way to draw him in so she could plant her blade in him.

The cutthroat was frustrated with the stand-off. Each of them now had a better measure of their opponent. It would have to end sometime, however. They couldn't just keep circling each other for hours. Someone would have to eventually make a move and he was getting impatient, but this beautiful Nord had already proved quite quick and agile. And then it happened. She was so focused on him, that she hadn't noticed a spot where the stone floor was uneven. She scuffed her foot against it and stumbled. Dufont roared in.

Sable knew he would fall for the opening she gave him. She brought herself out of the stumble and took a step to her right. Dufont realized the feint and his eyes went wide. He tried to stop himself but it was too late. He had committed and there was no going back. She took one step toward her target and sank her dagger into his left side. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment. She looked directly into his eyes wanting him to know that what was left of his life belonged to her. His response was a bit surprising.

"Is that it? Is that all you got?" He gruffly asked before slamming his forehead into her nose.

There was a sharp crack as the she roiled backwards, stunned in a flash of hot pain that caused her to lose her vision for a brief second. Her arms flailed outward to keep balance, leaving her last dagger in Dufont's side.

"Now, champion, I'm going to kill you slowly like the pathetic would-be assassin that you are."

Sable watched Dufont pull her blade from his stomach with a snarl. He began to walk toward her as blood quickly soaked through his shirt. She had mortally wounded him, she knew. He would bleed out and die. The trick would be outlasting him; staying alive until that happened. However, with the room still spinning like it was, that would be easier said than done.

The situation became even more desperate as she watched him pulled a small vial of red liquid from his shirt and bring it to lips. A moment later, the bleeding stopped and the wound at his side began to close. The Breton was annoying enough, but a healing potion put him over the top. No way was he leaving this place alive, she vowed to herself. Though weaponless and still dizzy with her own blood running down her face, she had no idea how she was going to fulfill that vow.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry for the ending the last chapter in the middle of the fight. (Then again, maybe not. ;) ) Enjoy the end of Dufont.  
****-Edward.**

* * *

As Dufont got closer, she did her best to back away from him and still keep her footing. The vertigo was beginning to subside, but the assassin would have still preferred another few minutes before being forced to move, let alone fight someone. She longed for the dark embrace of the shadows. If she could disappear into them, she could maybe find a weapon from one of Dufont's fallen comrades and end the fight, but certainly the blood dripping from her face would leave a trail for her opponent to follow.

That gave her an idea. Sable backpedaled into the shadows with a taunt.

"Come find me Dufont. That is, if you're not afraid of the dark."

Dufont, laughed. "You think you gain anything, champion? Your broken nose will lead me to you. It would be far easier for both of us if you just accept your fate. But if you have to make it a game, so be it."

Sable didn't listen to his rant. She had already been circling around to the stairs that led to the ledge overlooking the room. She scrambled up the steps on all fours, still fighting some lingering dizziness. At one point, the assassin reached up and pinched her nose. The pain made her wince, but she needed to make sure Dufont still had a trail to follow.

When she reached the top, she made for the dead archer and pulled two arrows from his quiver. She broke them in half and took the bladed points with her. They looked comical to be used as make shift daggers, but it was what she had. When she reached the far side of the ledge, she pinched her nose again; this time to hopefully stop the bleeding for a moment and then jumped off the ledge. She fell to all fours as she landed to muffle the sound of it as best she could before head back towards the stairs. Fortunately Dufont had been constantly taunting her as he followed the blood trail so it was unlikely he heard her landing over the sound of his own voice.

A few moments later his voice rang out again as he stood over the body of Halver.

"You plan to come at me with toothpicks now, champion? I hope you at least got paid up front and enjoyed what gold you could get out of her before coming to your death."

Sable was back on the ledge now as Dufont made his way to the other end to find his blood trail disappear. He looked to either side for a bit, trying to search out a new beginning to the morbid breadcrumbs he had been following.

"Where did you go, you horrid rat of a woman?" He questioned to himself. But Sable was already within hearing distance of her prey.

"Have you looked behind you?" She called out as she ran to close the distance.

As Dufont turned around to face her, Sable leapt into the air. His eyes went wide in surprise as she crashed into him, bringing him to ground underneath her. As she landed, Sable viciously thrust both arrow points into his throat. She ripped them back out not noticing that the small arrow blades broke off in his neck and stabbed the broken shafts back into his neck over and over again until there wasn't much left of it. Dufont was dead. Finally.

She rose off his body, her face covered in the blood of them both. She searched around a bit for her steel daggers. The tip of one had broken off when Dufont's hammer had knocked it from her hand. She found the other – the one with which she had stabbed the self-proclaimed bandit king – still intact.

She still had an appointment in Windhelm, but she was exhausted and still in pain from her broken nose. Slowly she sank down next to the fire in the middle of the room and passed out.

* * *

She woke shivering and having a hard time breathing. The fire had died out and left her in darkness and the blood had clotted leaving her nose congested. The only light was the dim glow of the pitch torches still lit in the hallways from which she had come. Her face still throbbed from the head-butt she had received from Dufont. Sable reached up and cleared the dried blood as best she could. Then grabbed her nose and wrenched it back into place.

Her scream echoed off the walls of the dwarven corridors and the blood started flowing anew. She didn't much feel like The White Deathbell as she grabbed the dead woman's fur cap and pinched it over her nose to try to stop the bleeding, hoping it wasn't riddled with some disease like Ataxia.

Sable grew angry with herself just then. Astrid's assessment of her had been accurate. She had let her confidence get the better of good judgment. It would have been only too easy to lay low in the shadows and strike as soon as Alain Dufont let his guard down. But in her arrogance, she assumed that her skills easily surpassed his and had nearly died from that assumption. In her attempt to show her leader wrong, she had only proved otherwise. She wondered if she should simply abandon her life as an assassin. Perhaps she could crawl back to the thieves guild and see if they would still take her back. Or perhaps she could go off on her own and set up a shop or farm and be miserable for the rest of her life. The one thing that she'd always been good at and even enjoyed had nearly got her killed because she had underestimated an opponent. She hadn't taken the time to watch and measure up Dufont and she had paid for it.

She sat in the silence for a while before realizing that it didn't matter. Her near failing in the assassination of Dufont didn't matter. What mattered was that she was still alive. Ultimately, she had proved to be more powerful. She would use this experience to harden and strengthen her knowledge and her skills. She was sharper now. Just as the deathbell flower always seemed to overcome Skyrim's harsh winters and thrive in places where most flowers would wither, The White Deathbell had overcome this challenge and would now be greater because of it. She got up and walked from the room, heading to the exit of Raldbthar hoping that it was daytime outside the ruin and she could get some warmth and wash her face off in the nearby river.

* * *

Sable once again found herself at The Hag's Cure in Markarth. Killing Nilsine had been almost laughably easy compared to the fight with Dufont. The white-haired assassin had spent a day following her target. It was a simple matter picking the lock while the family was asleep and dragging her blade across Nilsine's throat.

Once again, Bothela had kicked them out of her store to conduct their private business.

"Well, what news?" Muiri asked. "Is Alain …"

"Alain Dufont now lies dead." Sable confirmed when Muiri didn't finish.

"Thank you." The Breton woman truly sounded thankful. "That bastard got exactly what he deserved. And … Nilsine?"

"She is dead as well." The assassin said evenly.

"Oh, thank you again." Muiri said. "You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain. Please take this as payment … and as symbol of my gratitude."

The apothecary assistant pushed an unremarkable looking silver ring into her hand.

"What's this?" Sable asked. She could feel her anger rising. After what she went through, she just might have to kill Muiri if this was the entire payment.

"It's my ring," Muiri stated. "It's payment for … Nilsine. It's enchanted. It makes potions … or poisons you create more potent. I figure someone in your line of work would find that useful."

"And the payment for Alain Dufont. You mentioned being paid in gold." The assassin asked an edge finding its way into her voice.

"Yes, of course." The Breton replied. "I have a small chest of gold in my quarters in the shop. Under my bed. I hope it's enough. I've managed to save up 1200 septims."

Sable was not sure she could keep the surprise from her face. Together, they retrieved the rest of her payment. The chest was heavy enough that she hired a carriage back to Falkreath. It was an afternoon's walk from there to the Sanctuary.

As usual, Astrid was the first person Sable encountered as she was leaning over her table, ever planning the next move for the guild.

"Welcome home, sister." The silken voice of her guild leader purred. "We've missed …"

She stopped short as she turned and saw Sable.

"What happened to you?" The matron asked with genuine concern in her voice. "Your nose looks like it's been broken … and rather poorly re-set."

"I had a run in with a rather thick skull." The white-haired assassin explained. She so badly wanted to hide her stupidity in her encounter with Dufont, but somehow knew it would be futile to try to lie to her leader. "I underestimated my target and had a harder time fulfilling the contract than I should have." Sable hung her head. For some inexplicable reason, she felt like a child that had disappointed a beloved parent.

Astrid gently lifted her newest sister's eyes from the floor. "Don't despair, sister. All of us have done the same at some point. Just be sure to learn from the experience though. You've have a promising career as an assassin in front of you. Don't let it be cut short. Now I do want to hear all about the contract, but first, let's get you to Gabriella and see what she can do for your nose. You can leave your gold here. I'll see to it that it's brought to your room."

Astrid led Sable through the network of caves that served as the Dark Brotherhood's Sanctuary to her room.

"Go ahead and get settled and lie down. I will return shortly with Gabriella."

Sable sighed. She was exhausted after her ordeal with the bandit leader. She peeled off her leather armor and pulled a pretty dress from her wardrobe. It was ivory trimmed in pale green. It was made of a soft, light material and just flowed around her curves rather than hugging them. It was a very comfortable dress and she looked very pretty in it she thought. The assassin couldn't help twirling around a couple of times with a gleeful smile on her face. She then fell into the bed and waited for Astrid to return with her dunmer sister.

A moment later there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come." Sable called out tiredly.

The door opened and she looked over to see a whole committee of people. Behind Astrid was Gabriella, Babette, Nazir and Veezara.

"Welcome back, sister." Nazir's deep voice boomed. "Glad to see you've returned in one piece. Mostly anyway."

Sable smiled at Nazir's barb. "Sorry to disappoint you, brother." She returned.

"My only disappointment would've been if you hadn't returned at all." The Redguard replied sincerely.

"I am glad to ssee that I sstill have a chance to ssomeday play the game with you, ssisster." Veezara rasped.

Babette ran up to the side of her bed. "So glad you're back Sable." She exclaimed. "Gabriella and I have a present for you. We'll show you when you're all done here."

Before she could reply, Astrid shooed them all out except for Gabriella and herself.

"As you probably know already, Gabriella is a practitioner of restoration magic. She has agreed to repair the damage to your nose. With your permission, I will remain as well and do my best to comfort you while she works."

Sable, confused, but not wanting to question what her matron had said, nodded her consent.

"Try not to move." Astrid offered before nodding to the dark elf.

Gabriella looked down to Sable with a look of concern before bringing her hand just above her face. She closed her eyes and started whispering. Sable couldn't catch the words, but a moment later a yellow-gold light began to emanate from the dunmer's hands. It expanded over her face until she was forced to close her eyes against the brightness. Then she felt a warmth begin to permeate her face. Then came a pain beyond anything he had ever felt.

She grunted as it slammed into her. Her every muscle locked. Astrid's voice was at her ear.

"Try not to move my white deathbell. The pain is exquisite. I know. But you can't let it overtake you. Hold on to my voice and do your best to endure it. Just stay with me sister."

She was glad then that she had consented to her matron staying with her. Without her voice, she would have been lost in the pain as she felt cartilage and bone snap and reposition themselves and fuse back together. She desperately clung to Astrid's silken voice as her only way to resist the blackness trying to overtake her.

Finally the brightness receded.

"It is done mistress. The damage had been undone." Gabriella said to Astrid. Then kneeling close to Sable's ear, she softly spoke condolences, her voice full of sorrow. "I'm sorry, sister. I hope to never have to do such a thing for you again, but know I will never refuse it to you."

As she was coming back to her senses, Sable realized she was panting to catch her breath. Sweat was beading from her forehead and it seemed that every bone and muscle in her body ached. She had been exhausted before, but now she just wanted to roll over and sleep for days.

"Rest for now." Astrid said, always seeming to know what was in her thoughts. "Come and see me once you've recovered and give me a full report. There is no rush. Take your time. Sleep well, sister."

Sable relaxed and let sleep take her.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Big thanks to everyone that has followed along so far. I so appreciate it. The next chapter will start the complete break from the Dark Brotherhood story line and move forward into the largest part of the story which will be my own original fiction. I hope you all enjoy what's to come as much as the first two parts of Sable's tale. I look forward to any reviews.  
****-Edward**

* * *

She woke in darkness. The ensconced candles had burned to the wick and gone out; the only light peeked in from the hallway through the crack at the bottom of her room door. Sable reached up and touched her nose. Surprisingly, there was no pain; no tenderness. She was glad for that. The actual healing had been horrifyingly painful. Her nose seemed to be exactly as it was before her encounter with Dufont.

She pulled the fur covers off herself and rose up. She was still in the ivory and pale green dress. Though it now clung to her in places where it had soaked through with sweat during the healing of her face and then dried again afterwards while she slept. Sable walked across the room and cracked her door open a bit to get some more light. Her eyes stung for a moment with the banishment of darkness. A moment later, after her eyes had adjusted, she pulled two new candles from her desk and lit them using a torch outside her room. There was no one in the hallway beyond her door and she was actually relieved. The white-haired assassin wasn't sure she was ready for the attention of the entire Family just yet.

Back inside, she set the two candles in goat horn scones on opposite sides of the room so she could have enough light to re-dress but still leave it dim enough for her eyes. Sable initially went for her favorite hip-hugging red dress trimmed in cream and gold, but when she felt the weight of it decided otherwise. It was made of a heavy material and she didn't want put on any more weight than she had to. She decided on a dress made of a much lighter material. It was dark green with pale violet embroidery twisting its way up the sides. This one held tight against the curves of her body before flowing out at her waist.

She turned this way and that before snuffing the candles and heading out to find Astrid. She didn't have to search long as Astrid was coming down the corridor carrying a plate of food.

"Up already. Still the overachiever I see."

"How long did I sleep?" Sable asked.

"Only through the night. It is late morning now. The Family has just finished breakfast and I was coming to leave some fruit in your room. I would imagine one might be hungry after such an ordeal."

Sable wasn't sure if her leader was referring to the contract, the healing session, or both. Still she took an apple.

"Would you like to talk in your room?" Astrid offered.

"That would be nice."

Once back inside her room, she grabbed a few more candles. Astrid set the tray of fruit down and lit one using the torch outside and then passed the flame to each candle within until there was a warm glow.

"So tell me all about your first major contract." Astrid requested as they both sat down.

Sable re-counted the whole trip. She did her best to not omit any detail, even telling about the extra hit that Muiri had offered and she completed. Astrid seemed unfazed by it and said little throughout the dialogue. Her leader's brow furrowed a bit as she recounted how she had introduced herself to Dufont, but Astrid did not interrupt to chide her in the slightest. Her hazel eyes lit up with amusement and she smiled when Sable told her how she had ultimately bested the bandit leader.

"Nicely done, turning his overconfidence against him." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood congratulated. "We don't normally take on more than one victim per contract. However, I can see why you choose to do so and will not say anything further on it. You did well." Astrid rose to leave. "And now I suggest you go see the rest of the Family. They should be gathered in the dining hall. They have been waiting to see you."

"May I ask, mistress, why did you not warn me of the pain beforehand?" Sable inquired. Astrid sat back down.

"You speak of the healing of your broken nose I assume?" Sable nodded. Astrid's answer seemed tinged with sorrow. "Never have I warned a family member that required it the first time. I have always viewed it as sort of a tough love. Healing can be quite painful and the assassin that has experienced and remembers that pain as a tendency to be more careful and not need it nearly as often." The matron seemed unbothered by her recruit's darkened countenance. "I am truly sorry you had to go through it. I have required Gabriella's talents in the past, so I have a very good idea of what you endured. I hope the experience will serve you well in the future."

Sable's face softened. While it had been horrible to endure, Astrid had put her through it for her own good. She very much seemed a mother pained by knowing her children would learn a lesson best by enduring it the hard way.

"Come. Let's not keep the others waiting any longer."

Sable followed Astrid through the corridors leading to the common room that served as the dining hall. All of the guild members were gathered and, as she came into view, welcomed her warmly. Well, almost all of them did so. Festus was standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest, looking grumpy as usual. He was probably only there because Astrid ordered him to be. She didn't care. He was just an old curmudgeon anyway.

Once they made their way down, Astrid quieted them all. At her prompting, Arnbjorn brought forward a sack and handed it to Sable. Sable opened the sack and found a pair of boots in it. They appeared to be the exact same boots that had been given to her when she had first arrived. Thick leather dyed black and dark red.

"Today," Astrid called out, "our newest sister has proven herself worthy of the Dark Brotherhood. Having completed her first major contract, she is to be celebrated and held in high esteem by the Family. We all look forward to her career in the shadows." She then looked directly at Sable. "Kill well. Kill often."

There was a loud cheer by all gathered as they celebrated their sister's first great achievement. She couldn't help but smile as she felt her cheeks flush.

"We called them Shrouded Boots. They're enchanted." Astrid said to her as the clamor died down a bit. "That's what makes them special. While you're wearing them, your movements will not be heard. Perhaps with your skill at stealth, you may not even need them, but it I'm sure it would honor the Family whenever you wore them."

Sable looked at her in awe. The no one had ever given her anything so valuable. She felt nearly overwhelmed at that point. Of course she would wear them. She might not ever take them off. Astrid smiled warmly at her before telling her to enjoy this day and slipping away.

All the rest talked to her for a while and welcomed her back. They had demanded a full re-counting of her contract. She left out nothing, giving them every detail, knowing they accepted her and any judgments made on their part would be imparted as wisdom to help her improve. She knew that they only wanted to see her get better and better at her craft. It was odd, but this band of assassins was more of a family to her than anything she had previously. Tears of joy rolled down her face every now and then throughout the afternoon and evening. She was truly loved here, she knew. It was strange to her, but wonderful as well.

Eventually, Babette found her, a sheepish look on her face.

"Remember when I said Gabriella and I had present for you?"

Sable nodded.

"Well, in my excitement, I spoke too soon. It's not ready yet. Do mind waiting a bit before I show you?"

"Not at all, Babette," she giggled, "Come find me whenever you're ready."

* * *

Later that night, when she had returned to her room, Sable tried on her new boots. Just as Astrid had told her, she made not a sound as she stepped around the room. In delight, she jumped several times stomping her feet on the floor. The silence was startling. She smiled again and found her cheeks hurt slightly as she had been smiling almost the whole night. She would certainly have some fun in these.

About a week later, Arnbjorn found her and asked for a moment of time. Sable followed him to the area where he kept his anvil and forge.

"Listen, hamshank." He started seeming a bit nervous. "I have something for you. I've been working on it since you told us how your dagger was ruined. It hadn't occurred to me til then that I while I ain't no quartermaster or anything, you should probably be better equipped than pair of common steel daggers. So … uh … here. I want you to have these."

He reached back to behind him and picked up a box off his workbench and gave it to her. Sable opened the box to find two perfectly crafted elven daggers inside. They were beautiful. The silvery curved blade melded into a very dull gold colored metal shaped to roughly resemble the wings and tail of a bird of prey. The handle had a slight curve to it and had the same dull golden metal criss-crossing over tight padded leather to serve as the feathers of the bird while also improving the grip. At the base of the handle, the pommel was shaped into the hawk's head. In general there were no round edges to the embellishments on the dagger, but there was no doubt the creature they made and that a great deal of skill and time was required to craft them.

"How did you make these so fast?" She asked in astonishment.

"Well the wolf in me doesn't allow me to rest much and there's not much else to do at night when everyone is sleeping." He explained before his gruffy façade returned. "Now, don't you lose or damage those daggers. The refined moonstone and quicksilver is a pain in one's shank to shape and I'll not see my hard work go to waste. You hear?"

Sable closed and clutched the box to her chest, beaming at him. "Thank you, Arnbjorn. I will treasure them as I do my own life." She rushed forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Bah, get out of here, tidbit." He cried out. "I'm already married." He shooed her out of his forge area, but there was no need. She was already running off towards her room to stow away her precious gift.

Having stored the box, Sable was just closing the door to her room when Babette found her.

"I'm ready for you to see it now." The vampire chimed.

"See what, Babette?"

"Your present. Come see it!" Babette grabbed her hand and led her to the crafting room. "Close your eyes and no peeking."

Sable did as directed placing her hands over her eyes. She felt the false child's hand take hold her elbow and lead her to the table in the middle of the room.

"Okay, you can open them."

The Nord removed her hands and opened her eyes. Babette and Gabriella were standing on the opposite side of the table watching anxiously for her to spot her present and enjoy her reaction.

Sable's gaze eventually drifted down and, there on the table, she spotted a small planter with a very young deathbell plant sprouting a single bunch of white petals. Her mouth dropped open as she sat, cupping the clay pot in both hands.

"How did you do this so fast? It's only been a couple of weeks." She wasn't sure she could take any more surprises that day.

"It was mainly Gabriella." Babette explained, quite enjoying the reaction she was seeing. "I mentioned your little project to her shortly after you left. She was the one that had the idea of using Alteration magic to change the appearance of the flower. She ensorcelled the seed and I then planted it and used every trick I knew to nurture it and get it to grow."

"Babette makes it sound simpler than it really was, but as you can see we managed it." Gabriella clarified.

"Yeah, who knew that such a small flower seed could explode that violently?" The child vampire chimed in.

"Were you injured?" Sable asked.

"No," Gabriella stated, "though there were some rather … lively afternoons in here."

"This is wonderful." The Nord exclaimed.

"You'll still have to let it grow for a while." Babette explained. "Obviously it's still too young to have its flowers plucked yet. But I'll take care of it and let you know as soon as it's strong enough."

Sable turned her gaze back to the white flower and took it in. She was overjoyed. Soon a new terror would be unleashed upon Skyrim. Her name would become renowned; something to be feared. The legend of The White Deathbell had begun.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter starts the much larger over-arching plot of Sable's tale. It is my own original story that does not follow any game story lines very closely (if at all), although there will be familiar characters and locales. Thanks again to everyone that has followed along and enjoyed the story. Hope you continue to do so.  
-E.K.**

* * *

What about the end of your life?" The old man, a priest of Arkay, asked.

The question caught the white-haired, curvy assassin off guard and she paused. What had caused anyone to want a feeble old priest of Arkay dead, she had no idea, but it didn't matter. A contract was a contract. He had been easy to find and she hadn't expected any real resistance so she had revealed herself and the intentions behind her visit to his temple. What she hadn't expected was the conversation he had engaged her in. He had recognized her affiliation with the Dark Brotherhood immediately from her black and dark red leather armor and had simply questioned why it was she did what she did. She explained that she enjoyed power and that power over another's life or death was the highest form of power to which one could attain. And then his simple question stopped her cold.

"What do you mean by that priest?" She asked back to him.

"Do you have any power over your own life?" He asked again.

"Of course I do, old man." The assassin spat back. "I've held my own life in my hands since I was barely a woman. I am solely responsible for my life and none have proven more powerful over it than I."

"So you don't plan on aging?" The old man asked, his steel gray eyes focusing on hers. "Death is as natural as birth. It is a part of Arkay's cycle of life. What happens when you grow old like myself? What power do you have then?"

Her countenance darkened. Just what exactly would happen to her when she grew too old to carry out assassinations? Would a knife eventually find its way into her back? Would she die on bed too feeble to fight back as she coughed out her last breaths? With those horrifying thoughts circling, the priest took her pause as a sign he would possibly get her to see reason and continued.

"No one has the power to extend their life beyond it's time."

"Of course one can." She said snapped back from her thoughts. "What of Talos, The Hero of Kvatch, The Nerevarine? These legends live beyond their time."

"And are any of these still alive?" The priest rebuffed her argument almost without effort it seemed. "Only their names remain for a time. Eventually legends fade as well. There is no shame in death. Indeed, on the contrary, it is the fulfillment of divine ordinance that …"

Sable's elven dagger being plunged hilt deep into his chest stopped his speech. His eyes went wide as they looked into hers, smoldering in rage.

"Tell me, priest of Arkay, how glorious do you feel now?" The White Deathbell asked venomously to the no longer hearing shell of an old man as she wrenched her dagger from his body. It crumpled to a heap in an ever spreading pool of blood. Sable pulled a small white flower and let it fall to a rest on top of the now dead old man. She then turned and stalked angrily from the temple to collect her payment from the contract.

"The pay for this had better be worth it." Sable snarled to herself.

* * *

Sable made her way quickly back to the client and then back to the Sanctuary afterwards. The words of the priest of Arkay continued to haunt her and she uncharacteristically took another assignment immediately. She hoped that keeping herself busy would drown out the disconcerting feeling of one day being completely powerless and helpless.

It kept finding its way insidiously into the edge of her concentration, however as she slipped through the underground corridors of one of many of Skyrim's cave complexes that served as some lowlife's hideout. Strangely there was no resistance as the assassin made her way silently towards her target. There were no guard or others of any kind. The ease of the infiltration was unnerving.

Eventually she made her way to a dark cavern with a single shaft of light breaking through the near pitch dark. She didn't know how, but she somehow knew that the small circle of illuminated floor in the cavern was in the exact center of the room. She looked up, following the shaft of light up, but couldn't see any discernible source of it.

As her gaze came back down, suddenly there was a hooded figure standing in the light. Sable was sure she hadn't seen him there before. She was about to move forward supposing him to be her target when suddenly everything just felt wrong. The figure turned and looked directly at her. She was still deep in the shadows. There was no way he could have spotted her, but yet he was looking her right in the eyes.

The figure lifted the hooded and Sable gasped. It was the old man; the priest of Arkay. But how could he still be alive? She had watched him die. But there was no doubt in her mind it was him. He had the same steel gray eyes, the same long beard twisted into a knot just below his chin.

"Did I not tell you, my dear." He said smiling. He pointed a gnarled finger at her. "No one can escape death. You are not as powerful as you think."

As he finished, the light in the cave widened. As it did, she saw piles of dead bodies all over the floor. Her horror increased as she realized they were all bodies of people she had killed. She recognized Alain Dufont, the abusive innkeeper that had been her first kill, all of them.

As the light washed over her, her hair became thin and began falling out. Then she felt something in her mouth. She spit the object out into her hand and saw it was her tooth. It was just the beginning as the rest of them began tumbling from her mouth. She watched as the skin on her hand deflated and then stretched thin over bones. Her armor suddenly went loose and felt quite heavy.

She brought her hands to her face and felt the deep sagging wrinkles in her cheeks and around her mouth. And then she didn't feel her fingers touching anymore. She pulled her hand away and saw that it was crumbling to dust. The disintegration began working its way up her arm.

She fell to the ground as her feet and legs turned to dust as well. A silent scream burst forth from her as she lay on the floor of some unknown cave literally wasting away. She heard the old priest laughing at her as everything went black and she died, crumbling away to nothingness.

* * *

Sable woke with a start panting heavily as if she had been screaming. Her white hair was plastered to her face and neck and she shivered uncontrollably despite having been under the warm fur blankets of her bed. She was drenched in sweat and it was taking every bit of her to reign in the feeling of sheer terror that threatened to overwhelm her.

Just as she thought she might lose her grip on herself, the door to her room burst open. Even with the warm light of the corridor outside offering her a quick and gentle salvation from her fear, it took her several deep breaths to reclaim her own mind.

"Are you alright, sister?" the voice of Gabriella sounded out full of worry. Initially it sounded like a clanging gong that reverberated through head. She never thought that such a thing could sound so comforting before then. She looked over with partially wild eyes and saw the dunmer also in night clothes, but holding a short sword each hand. Behind Gabriella stood Veezara and Nazir similarly armed and half dressed.

As moments passed others began to show up.

"Sister?" Gabriella repeated even more insistently when there was no response "You are alright, sister?"

Sable focused back on her dark elf friend. "How … How … uh …" She couldn't seem to manage any more than that.

"We heard your scream." Gabriella explained crossing the room and kneeling before her. "It sounded like death itself."

Upon hearing the poor choice of words, her nerves threatened to take over again. "Yes! It was death itself, Gabriella. It was death. I couldn't stop it!" Sable began quivering again.

Gabriella moved up and sat on the bed and held her sister gently rocking her. One hand lit up with a light blue energy sending calming magic into her friend to soothe her. The dark elf looked to the crowd.

"I suspect she will be okay. You can all go back to bed." As they began to turn away, she add, "Babette, please stay with us as well. Will someone please fetch some spare bedding?"

Babette came into the room and helped Gabriella get their Nord friend out of the sweat soaked night clothes and laid her back in bed. A little more calming magic from the dark elf helped her friend find a peaceful sleep.

Nazir and Veezara returned with a couple of cots and some spare blankets and then left them, experience having taught them that there was nothing more they could do just then.

Gabriella turned to Babette. "I suspect Sable simply had a nightmare beyond her control." She explained to the vampire. "But if there is something more sinister to it and she needs to be restrained, I suspect you are the only one of us that would be able to do so."

Babette only nodded as the two of them settled into the cots for what promised to be a night of uneasy rest.

* * *

Her eyes opened to darkness but it was different this time. The mind-numbing terror from before was gone, replaced now by a disconcerting feeling of powerlessness and despair. As stated by the old priest and frighteningly cemented by the dream, she was completely powerless against death. Sable sat up and looked around. Movement to her left caught her attention. She saw that Gabriella and Babette had slept in her room to tend to her if needed.

In that moment, she recalled everything. The dream and the fear-induced insanity it had inspired and how the Family had rushed to her aid along with the internal war fought within between the terror and the bliss of whatever spell Gabriella had used on her left her embarrassed. Her brothers and sisters had seen nothing but weakness in her at that point and she had been able to do nothing about it. Anger began to rise up in her in response to that helplessness, but it quickly faded when she heard Babette's voice call out.

"Sister, are you alright?"

"That depends, Babette," she quietly answered. "If you mean to ask if I have regained myself, then yes. I am alright. But if you mean to ask if I am whole and well … No, I am nothing near alright."

She wasn't sure she could say anything more and thankfully Babette didn't push it. By now, Gabriella was sitting up looking their way as well. The dark circles forming under her eyes told Sable that she hadn't slept much. She guessed that aside from the cots likely not being very comfortable, they had probably woke every time she moved or made even the slightest noise in her sleep.

"Thank you both." She said somberly but sincerely. "I don't think I remember the last time I've had such care shown to me."

"None are needed, sister," Gabriella answered. "I am sure you would keep the same vigil over me were our positions reversed." The last statement confirmed Sable's thoughts about their presence, but caught between the conflicting emotions of frustration from the display of weakness and being loved she couldn't find any words to say. She only nodded and hoped that they knew what she meant by it.

"We will leave you to dress." The dumer spoke after a short silence. "Join us for breakfast whenever you are ready."

Gabriella left her then, no doubt to change into her robes and start her day as well. Babette, however, lingered.

"Astrid asked to see you," the child-looking vampire stated. "She wants to know about your last contract and about last night. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help." She turned and left as well.

Sable stood and rummaged through her dresses eventually settling on her favorite. The heavy material of the dress along with a low square cut neckline showed off her curves and just the right amount of cleavage she thought. It was a made from crimson red crushed velvet trimmed with cream and gold. It had been the first gift she had received from her Family after joining the Dark Brotherhood . She had worn the dress to distract the Jarl of Falkreath and steal a valuable brooch when she had formerly worked for Thieves Guild. She had reluctantly left the dress behind. Somehow the assassin's guild had known about it and Babette had retrieved it as a welcome home gift. It had been the first time she could remember truly feeling loved and knew then she would defend her new Family to her last breath.

It seemed almost silly to think of a bunch of assassin as a warm and loving family, but that is exactly what they had been to her. She found it strangely comforting though, and a wisp of a smile appeared on her face. It was the first time she had in the last couple days since she'd dealt with the old man. And, just like that, it was gone.

The despair didn't last long, as she looked down as saw how pretty she looked in the dress. The white-haired assassin couldn't resist the urge to twirl herself around a few times and the smile resurrected itself even greater than before.

She grabbed a comb and de-tangled her hair as best she could from the sweat the previous night and eventually decided she would have to find some time for a proper bath. With that in mind, she put on her favorite boots – another gift to her from the Family – and left to find Astrid.

As usual, Sable found the guild's matron standing over table in the first cave inside the entrance of the complex.

"You asked for a report, mistress." Sable stated coming up behind Astrid.

"Yes," Astrid replied in her usual silken tones, "tell me about your last contract."

"You've haven't asked me about a minor contract since my first, why now?" the white-haired assassin voice confused rather than defensive.

"True," the matron conceded, "but neither have you ever screamed in your sleep after returning from a contract, much less a rather simple one such as an old priest of Arkay. It tends to raise eyebrows."

Sable's face flushed with embarrassment that soon found her grinding her teeth in anger at the helplessness she felt.

"I do not mean to shame or embarrass you." Astrid assured her, accurately reading her face. "I am simply concerned for the wellbeing of a sister. I want to hear what happened so I can help in any way I can."

Sable understood and even appreciated Astrid's intent, but it only made it worse for her. She was so used to being in control and exercising power over any person or situation. There was no lower she could get than to have had them all see her in the state she was in the previous night. She was embarrassed that her Family has seen her so weak and was seething at the loss of control. Once again her leader spoke seeming to know her thoughts.

"If you do not want to speak of yet, I will respect your wishes, but for your own good, I will not allow you another contract until I hear of your experience."

She desperately didn't want to tell Astrid of how a few simple words had brought her to this haunting, but decided that there was no use in lying or putting it off. There was no way her matron would believe a simply uneventful murder would cause this upheaval. And since she wanted to get back to work and hopefully forget about the whole thing, Sable told Astrid everything. She didn't leave out a single detail. She recalled every word of the old man and every detail of the nightmare.

It all sounded so trivial and stupid as the white-haired assassin recounted it all, she still felt thick and cold by the time she finished. Astrid never interrupted; never even passed a look of judgment on her while she spoke. There was a short moment of silence before the leader of the assassins spoke.

"Ah, I understand now. You've come face to face with the idea of your own morality." Astrid always seemed to know exactly what to say. Perhaps that's why she was the leader, but it was so uncanny at times that it bordered on unsettling. "Take comfort. You'll find no judgment here. Everyone within this sanctuary has experienced the same, though perhaps not in quite the same manner as you have. You are now even more a part of our Family."

"So, what now?" Sable asked.

"That, I cannot answer." The blonde Nord replied. "You must find your own way through this. Each of us has dealt with it differently. Some distracted themselves with contracts until it went away. Others, used the support and advice of the Family to work their way through. Some have even quit."

"How did you handle it?" The pale Nord asked of her mentor.

"It took some time." Astrid replied with honesty. "I did not accept a contract for a while, but eventually, I realized that death was nothing to worry about as long as I survived each day. And if by chance, I did not, I would only go to the void that is Sithis and it would be nothing to worry about."

"I see," Sable said taking it in. "Thank you, mistress."

"No need to thank me, sister," came the reply and as Sable turned to leave, Astrid offered her customary parting words. "Kill well. Kill often."

Sable barely heard them as she was already deep in thought. While some of what Astrid said had made sense, there seemed to be more needed for her than what she had received. "Death was nothing to worry about as long as I survived …" her mistress had said. There was something left unspoken there but she did not know what. Of course there was no need to fear death provided one was alive. It was so simple it almost seemed like a stupid thing to say. There just had to be more to it.

Then it hit her. As long as one was alive, death held no power over them. She was exerting her power over death, perhaps even Arkay himself. Every moment she was alive, she was spitting in the face of any forces wishing to end her life. Her paced quickened with purpose. She had to find Nazir to get a new contract. She would prove her power over death and perhaps even over Arkay himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Looking around the relatively few buildings, Sable was reminded again why she didn't like coming to Morthal. If there was such a place that could be described as the arm pit of Skyrim, this was it. There was an inn, the jarl's residence, one alchemy shop, and a handful houses that made up the Hold city of Hjaalmarch hold. How the mass of swap land had become a hold, she could only guess. Perhaps it was because no one else in their right mind wanted the land and so it was made into one so the rest could define the borders of their holds as not being a part of Hjaalmarch.

The White Deathbell was here to find her target, an orc named Brugdul gro-Durog. Details weren't normally given on minor contracts, so she didn't know why the orsimer was wanted dead, but she really didn't care. This would be her first opportunity to prove death powerless since the disturbing 'meeting' with the priest of Arkay and the ensuing nightmare.

The orc was known to live out in the marshes alone to the west of Morthal so Sable had hired a carriage driver to take her to the hold city, figuring she could make her way from foot from there. However, the carriage ride had taken longer than she anticipated and now the sun was beginning to set. Travelling through swamps infested with frostbite spiders and chaurus was dangerous enough in during the day, but with dusk already giving away to night, she resigned herself to staying the night in Morthal.

The white-haired assassin walked towards the inn making sure to keep her long cloak pulled close so as not to reveal the black and dark red leather armor of the Dark Brotherhood she wore underneath it. As she passed by the jarl's longhouse towards the inn just beyond, one of the guards walking in the opposite direction reached her. He had studied her the entire time as they approached each other and as he came within earshot of a hoarse whisper, the guard gave her a shock.

"Psst," he whispered, "I know who you are."

Sable's left arm shot out and grabbed the guard. An instant later, she spun him to her right and into the shadowed gap between the longhouse and the inn. Before the guard knew what happened, she had him pinned again the wall of the inn with her elven dagger slid up under the full face of his helmet. The edge of the blade was poised just a hair away from the skin of his neck.

"And just who do you think I am?" The assassin whispered back menacingly.

"I only meant that I know you are of the Dark Brotherhood." The guard stuttered nervously, his eyes wide. "I know the pattern on your boots from … dealings … I've had with them. I meant no ill will."

"I think it would be best if this … misunderstanding had never happened." Sable suggested. The guard nodded carefully.

"Of course," he stammered, "my apologies. Hail Sithis."

Sable removed her blade from the man's neck, let him off the wall and walked away. The shaken guard took a moment before resuming his patrol.

* * *

The next morning, Sable left just after dawn. She struck out west into the marshland hoping the camp of Brugdul gro-Durog wouldn't be difficult to find and that she wouldn't have to deal with many pests along the way. She kept her cloak wanting to remain as unremarkable as possible until she actually made it to her target.

Fortunately, the assassin only had to deal with one relatively small frostbite spider before eventually finding the orc's camp. The camp was not large. It had a small fire in the middle and a tent pitched on the north side. He sat on a log running west to east near a stew pot set over the fire with a large battle axe resting close to his left, wearing only a pair of hide pants. He was much larger than most orcs with a heavily muscled torso and arms to match. There was a long scar that ran down the right side of his face barely missing the brute's eye. He hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet just sitting there poking at the fire or stirring whatever was bubbling in the stew pot.

Sable didn't drop into a crouch as she approached. She wanted to him to see her. She could have of course snuck up on him and ended his life (especially since her enchanted boots made no sound as she stepped), but doing so would have been fruitless. She would not learn whether or not she was more powerful than death if she never gave it a chance to try to take her.

As she neared, Durog saw her and immediately stood, placing his hand on the haft of his huge axe. Sable showed her hands, palm up and empty to show she was not armed and meant no harm. The orc didn't change his stance at all.

"Stop there, stranger," his rumbling voice called out, "unless you want to be split in two."

"I mean no hostility toward you," Sable answered in her best lost and helpless voice. "I fear I have become lost in these marshes. I saw your camp and approached hoping to gain assistance."

She lowered the hood from her cloak. Upon seeing her as a human female, the orc took his hand from his weapon and sat back down. Sable closed the distance and stood near a stump sitting a few feet away from his log on the east side of the camp.

"What were you doing wandering the swamps in the first place?" The orsimer inquired without looking at her, concentrating on what was cooking. "Was there some specific purpose in mind or are you some kind of grand fool?"

"Actually, I came here to kill you," came the reply.

The orc laughed at first, but when he heard no other laughter he looked up to the new comer. Sable smiled and removed her cloak, letting it drop to the ground. She stood there a moment in her black and sanguine leather armor, basking in the befuddled look on his face.

"I am from the Dark Brotherhood and it's time for you to die."

Durog instantly went for his axe, but Sable was ready for the move. A flick of her wrist sent a throwing knife whistling through the air that pinned the orc's hand to the log he was sitting on. He looked back up to her in disbelief. She smiled and slowly drew her elven daggers. She stepped forward to end Durog's life, but then the blasted orc ruined the whole thing.

Seeing her intent, he kicked the stew pot at her, causing the boiling content to spray in her direction. Sable threw herself to her right in a roll knowing it was her only chance to avoid being scalded or worse. She felt the heat as some of the liquid splashed onto her lower legs, but knew her armor would minimize the damage. As soon as she came out of her roll she heard a howl of rage come from Durog behind and she turned back to face him just in time to see him rip his hand from the blade holding it to the log.

Blood gushed all over the log. Durog panted heavily in pain. He glanced down to his hand. It was pouring blood and now useless for wielding his giant axe. Sable began to stalk her way back toward him both daggers still in hand. In response, the orc reached across his body and, amazingly, picked up his axe. It was clear from the strain in his muscles that he would be unable to fight with only one hand, but it seemed the orc didn't plan to as he curled his arm and hurled the weapon at the assassin.

Sable dodged the clumsy throw easily, but found it had only been a distraction. He rushed her and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. He lifted her from the ground and flexed his monstrous arms, squeezing the air from her. The crush was so quick and complete it immediately forced her breath from her. On reflex, she gasped trying to draw more. The orsimer took the opportunity to squeeze tighter and empty her lungs even further and causing her to lose her hold on her daggers. They fell harmlessly to the ground.

Sable held her breath knowing it was the only way to counteract the constriction, but her chest burned for air and the edges of her vision were starting the blur.

"You, horrid bitch!" Durog roared. "I may die from the blood loss, but I'm making sure I take you with me. See you on the other side."

As he finished, there was a loud crack, and Sable felt a rib pop out of place. She involuntarily screamed what air she had left from the pain. The orc tightened his grip and she nearly passed out from the wave of pain that crashed over her. She began to see twinkles of light in her vision.

There was nothing left to do unless she was going to give death the victory, so she used what little she had left and thrashed. Sithis was with her, as her knee suddenly came in violent contact with her assailant's groin. Instantly she was free. Durog dropped her to the ground as he went crashing to the ground in a heap.

Sable gulped for air. It was a bittersweet experience. Sweet, wonderful air swept into her lungs and caused a fit of coughing from the searing agony that overtook her from the dislocated rib. This continued over and over as she made a clumsy grab for her daggers and scrambled away trying to put distance between her the Divines cursed orc.

She made it to a large stump about a half dozen steps away from the camp and immediately put her back to it hoping that she made it there fast enough that Durog wouldn't have seen her and she could have a moment to gather herself. She found that she had managed to grab one of her treasured elven daggers in her desperate escape.

It was mind numbingly difficult to keep from groaning every time she took a breath. The out of place rib continually throbbed out rolls of pain. Just then she heard Durog roar in rage.

"Curse you, you harlot!" The orc screamed. "I'm going to tear your limbs off and beat you to death with them!"

The white haired Nord clutched her dagger as her own anger rose within into a seething hot rage boiling her very being. It was time to end this and to do so very painfully. Slowly she turned herself around and tensed into a tight crouch, ready to spring. Still hidden behind the stump, she called out to her target.

"Is that all you've got, you son of a pig? I've been dealt worse from the chickens in Riverwood!"

His bellow of wrath told her that he heard her and the thundering of his steps told her he was heading in her direction as fast as he could in a homicidal frenzy. She dared not peek around her hiding place and give away her exact location, so she could only go on the rapidly increasing volume of his rampage and her instincts. If the timing wasn't perfect, it would probably mean the end of The White Deathbell Legend before it ever really got started.

She did her best to push the pain away and concentrate on the task at hand, focusing only on the sound of Durog's charge and on her instincts, trusting them to tell her the perfect time to strike. He was almost there. Her legs were aching with need. But she ignored them, keeping the muscles tight; wanting every ounce of power she could muster for the leap. One fraction of a second more and …

She sprung! Leading with the hilt of her dagger, she thrust her arm out as she leaped from her hiding place. The eagle head that served as the pommel smashed into the left side of the orc's face. Sable felt the crunch of bone breaking as the orsimer's feet were thrown out from under him. The force jammed her elbow painfully against the socket as she was spun away from Durog as he crashed heavily on his back too dazed to do anything more than howl in pain.

The assassin rolled into her landing and quickly got up and raced back towards the still downed orc. Blood fountained from his mouth. The blow had knocked at least 2 teeth from his mouth and broken his left tusk. Starting to recover, Durog lifted his hands to his face to cover the pain. Sable, wanting to see him suffer, darted forward and hacked at them. The elven blade removed three of his fingers in a new spray blood.

The orc howled and flailed with arms. One connected solidly with her abdomen throwing her to the ground. Pain flashed anew from the dislodged rib.

Sable screamed in pain and anger as she regained her footing and threw herself at Durog. She didn't care about anything anymore except making him dead. The assassin plunged her dagger into his exposed belly and dragged the blade across the orc; spilling his innards. Durog grunted and gargled and then finally went still.

Sable fell back to the ground. She sat there covered in orc blood for moment panting in pain and exhaustion, but her lips spread into a smile. She had proved more powerful than death. It had tried to claim her, but had been rebuffed. She had won this day. It was exhilarating.

She knew she needed to move away from the place. It probably wouldn't take the spiders and chaurus long to pick up the scent of blood and come investigate. Sable rose and retrieved her cloak and her other elven dagger. She decided against placing one of her special white deathbell flowers on Durog. It was unlikely anyone would find him before the swamp vermin tore him to pieces.

Slipping her cloak back on, The White Deathbell began the painful journey back to Morthal. With any luck, she could keep her cloak pulled around her until she could get a bath and no one would notice she was covered in blood that was not her own.


	13. Chapter 13

The journey to back to the Sanctuary was uneventful and painful. It wasn't enough that the injured rib hurt whenever she was conscious, the carriage ride was torturous as it swayed, bumped, and bucked in what she figured was every single hole and rut in the road that ran from Morthal to Falkreath.

Sable screamed when Gabriella's magic reset the rib and Astrid had instructed that she would not be sent out on a new contract until it had time to settle and there was no lingering pain. She spent the next few days mainly with Babette tending to the white deathbell plant that the child vampire had developed for her with the help of the Dunmer.

She found she was actually somewhat enjoying the small reprieve. She was able to reacquaint herself with all the pretty dresses in her wardrobe, though her rib prevented her from twirling around much. But as the days wore on and the soreness subsided, she began to feel antsy; growing until she thought she would go stir crazy. Going outside would not be enough she knew. She needed a contract. Her legend wouldn't grow just sitting around the Sanctuary.

Sable was sure she was going to snap when Astrid came to find her.

"How are you feeling, sister?" the leader asked.

"Depends on how you mean," Sable replied, "The pain in my side is nearly gone, but I'm going to go crazy if I don't get out soon."

"Well, aren't you the lucky one," Astrid purred "I've actually come to see if you wanted to handle a task for me?"

"You have a contract?" the white haired assassin perked up a bit.

"Actually, it is something that may end up being more … delicate than that." The matron of the Dark Brotherhood explained. "There may not be any killing involved, but it would at least grant you the opportunity to get out of the Sanctuary for a while. Interested?"

"Very." Sable replied immediately.

Astrid chuckled. "I thought you might be." She paused before continuing. "We have a … an old associate in Riften that has asked for a favor. I simply need you to go find out what he requires."

"And am I to perform whatever task he requires?" Sable inquired.

Astrid thought for a bit. "I trust you to use your judgment. If it is a matter you can handle, by all means do so. But you can report back to me if you so decide."

Sable smiled. It felt rather good to be trusted in this manner.

"Who is my contact for this favor?" she asked.

"I do believe you've met him actually." Astrid stated. "You are to meet with Delvin Mallory."

The name hit Sable right in the gut.

"Delvin Mallory of the Thieves Guild?" She was suddenly not sure of this task for Astrid.

"Yes, indeed," the blonde leader replied. "I am well aware of your past ties with the Thieves Guild and that you never gave them your … resignation as it were. However, I suspect that even if there is some … awkwardness there for both sides, the meeting will prove more fruitful if you go."

The white haired assassin wasn't sure about that, but also did not want to refuse Astrid. The Family had shown her the love and acceptance she'd never had before.

"I … I will leave at first light tomorrow, Mistress."

"You have my thanks." Astrid said before leaving her.

Sable hadn't thought of a return to the thieves since she had first joined the Dark Brotherhood. Sitting there she realized it was bound to have happened at some point. Still, that thought didn't seem to help undo the knot in her stomach. She wondered why she felt so anxious to return. From what she had heard, Delvin used to belong to the Brotherhood prior to leaving and joining the Thieves Guild. And certainly they wouldn't attempt to harm her. To do so would risk bringing the full wrath of the Family against them. And yet, her nervousness nagged at the back of her mind no matter how much she told herself she was being silly.

* * *

Sable stared at the cleverly camouflaged button that opened the secret entrance to the Cistern – the home of the thieves guild – carved into a stone coffin that slid away to reveal a passage into the sewers. She had used it countless times when she had been thief. Even though that had been less than year since she had encountered and subsequently joined the Dark Brotherhood, it seemed like another life now gone by.

The anxiety she had experienced when first hearing of this assignment was gone. It seemed almost funny to her. Now that she was about to face those whom she had left behind with no explanation or any other communication, there was only calm. She was not afraid or worried in the slightest. She knew no harm would come to her here. The Dark Brotherhood may have lost much of its glory during The Great War, but the thieves were on hard times as well and certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to incur the wrath of the assassin's guild.

And so she stood there in her full black and sanguine red leather armor that identified her as a member of the Family for a moment longer before pushing the secret button and re-entering a former existence.

A short stairway led to a trap door into the sewers. The ladder within led to a large circular room that the guild called The Cistern. It was where most of them spent their time. In the center of the expansive room was a large pool of water. Four stone bridges – one at each compass direction – met into a wide circular platform in the middle. There were four hallways leading from the Cistern; also located at each compass point. The passageway she entered from was one. To her left a passageway led to the tavern the thieves had made in the sewers call The Ragged Flagon. A massive vault was to her right and training rooms and lodging were found in the hallway directly in front of her.

Sable strutted purposely into the room and enjoyed the looks of astonishment she got from the members present. Generally if a member failed to return from a job, it was assumed that they had been caught and were serving time. It was generally understood that there were no rescues. If one got pinched, they were on their own. But as soon as any of them saw her in her Dark Brotherhood garb, they knew she was no longer one of them and they kept their distance. All except one.

"By the Eight, lass," came a familiar calm, mild voice. Sable looked to see Brynjolf, the second in command, coming towards her. "What happened to you?"

"I have found a new Family," Sable replied condescendingly, "a new home."

"That, I can see, lass." The red-haired Nord replied. "But, why? Why the assassins?"

"Unlike Frey or yourself, they appreciate what I do for them. They appreciate me." The former thief replied.

"So you prefer murdering, then" he returned, attempting to throw something back in her face. She giggled at his silliness.

"Of course I do." She cried out trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the question. She could explain how power was the most meaningful possession in life and that she was wielding the greatest expression of it, but she knew he wouldn't hear it; couldn't hear it. He was weak. She just fixed him with a cold, calculating stare.

"Then why come back?" Brynjolf retorted. "Do you think you could still be welcome here after that confession, lass?"

"A welcome doesn't concern me. I'm here to see Delvin." Sable replied. "I assume he's in the Flagon, as usual?"

"Aye, he is," her once mentor said, "Get whatever business you have with him done and be gone."

Sable wasn't particularly surprised by Brynjolf's reaction as she left him there and headed towards the entrance to The Ragged Flagon. He held the Dark Brotherhood as rather contemptible; nothing more than petty murderers. She knew that Brynjolf only saw the small picture of larceny. He didn't understand that she now exercised power beyond what he could hope for as just the second in command of a gang of thieves. And even if his view of them is all they were, her new Family actually treated her as a sister rather than the lip service she had found here in the sewers under Riften.

Once inside the sewer tavern, it wasn't hard to find Delvin. The bald, elder Breton was seated with his back to her at his usual table just to the left of the bar. Sable strode right up to him, arms crossed.

"Astrid said you had requested a favor." She stated flatly catching his attention.

"Well, well, well, "he answered. "You're making friends all over, ain't ya."

"It would seem so." She replied. Delvin didn't seem disturbed at all by her new profession. With the old thief having been a member of the assassin's guild once, she wasn't sure how he'd react, but the parting had apparently been amicable she guessed.

"Always figure you were more a cutthroat than a cutpurse." He mused.

"We all have our lots in life I suppose," the assassin allowed, but wanting to be out of the sewers, she quickly changed back to the desired subject. "You had requested a favor from the Brotherhood?"

"Aye, that I did." Delvin answered handing her a note. "All I ask is that you not open that until you are out of the Cistern."

"That's it?" Sable asked incredulously beginning to feel her anger flare up. "We called me all the way to re…"

"Aye, lass. Simple as that." He cut her off quickly. She now understood that whatever the favor was, he didn't want his comrades to know about it. She blew out a sigh. Typical secretive thieves and all their clandestine cloak and dagger nonsense; it was a wonder that any of them ever got any sleep.

"Very good." Sable replied too politely. "I will take my leave unless there is anything else."

"You're free to go, love." He answered. "Give Astrid my regards."

She turned and made her way back to the Cistern. But rather than going straight for the exit, she made her way to the living quarters of the thieves. Back to her old room. Thankfully they had left all her stuff there, probably in anticipation of her eventual return. She went to the chest at the foot of her old bed and quickly opened it and retrieved the first possession she had ever cherished. A length of silk ribbon. It was a deep purple color with golden embroidery in the shape of deathbell flowers. She didn't remember how she had come to own it, but she had had it for as long as she could remember. As the assassin took a moment to gaze at it and run her fingers along the smooth silk from which it was made, she felt that perhaps it had been her mother's. It was, without a doubt, the only remnant of her time in the thieves guild she missed. And now it was hers again. Her old life as a thief was now completely purged and gone. She tied her stark white hair up with it and strutted freely from the room. She knew she was never coming back.

After seeking out and giving Brynjolf her formal, though not very polite, resignation from the thieves guild, Sable left using the same route in which she had entered paying no heed to any of the looks or stares that followed her back out to the Riften graveyard. Once out, she triggered the mechanism that slid the sarcophagus back into place, hiding the entrance to the thieve guild once more. The assassin retrieved her cloak from where she left it in an inside corner of the mausoleum and fastened it and pulled her hood up before heading back into town. She needed to find a secure place to read the note Delvin had passed to her. Somewhere she could be sure the eyes of the thieves guild wouldn't be able to see what it contained. Then it came to her.

The pale Nord turned around and headed back toward the graveyard, but this time, went up the wide steps and into the Temple of Mara. Once inside, she quickly and quietly took a seat in a pew to her right just inside the door and opened the note, holding it close to her to do her best to keep any onlookers from seeing its contents. Truly there was nowhere in Riften completely safe from the spying of Brynjolf's gang, but she knew that most thieves would probably be more than a little uncomfortable at the idea of hanging out in the godess' temple.

Written with impressively delicate penmanship, the note was short and simple.

_**On the north bank of Honrich Lake, you'll find Merryfair Farm. Be there at midnight.**_

Delvin was being extremely cautious if he was dragging her outside the city in the middle of the night. Sable began to wonder exactly what she had gotten herself into by agreeing to do a simple favor.

* * *

There wasn't much to Merryfair Farm; just a simple farm house with a barn and the requisite crop fields all around it. It was nestled right up to the bank of Honrich Lake for easy irrigation. But, when she discovered that Merryfair Farm was not deserted, but very much still populated, Sable's annoyance with Delvin grew considerably. The moons were just beginning to reach their peak in the night sky as she had approached the settlement wondering if she was supposed to go inside the farm house for her meeting with the eldest member of the thieves guild or if their business was to be conducted outside in one of the fields.

Her contemplation was broken when she sensed a presence coming up slowly and stealthily behind her. The White Deathbell didn't move, not letting her potential assailant on to the fact that she was aware. As soon as they mystery person as close enough, she crouched low and spun from left. Swinging out her right leg swept the intruders legs out from under him and he landed on his back with a thud forceful enough to drive the air from his lungs. In the blink of an eye, the white haired assassin was perched atop him with a dagger poised at his throat.

Delvin Mallory heaved and coughed for a moment before finally regaining his breath.

"Not exactly the welcome I was expecting."

"Then why were you trying to sneak up on me?" Sable asked, an edge of suspicion in her voice.

"Can't blame a thief for attempting to ply his trade, can you?" He flashed the most dashing smile he could muster. "Just my luck that you would pick up on me right before I could make the grab."

"Oh, please," she countered, "I heard you slogging through the mud near where the lakeshore meets the potato field."

Mallory's eyes went wide. Either he was losing his touch or this one was very good to have noticed him that far away. Eventually his face reddened with consternation.

"So you've proven your better than me." His voice gave away how flustered he was. "Want to get off me so we can talk business!?"

Sable's red lips parted into a very satisfied smile. "No, I think I like this arrangement better at the moment. Now, what is this favor you need that required dragging me to some hick farm in the middle of the night?"

"Just being cautious is all," Delvin replied. "I ran a job off the books and need help cleaning it up so I wanted a conversation outside of town in a place the guild doesn't care about. I also wanted it to be populated in case I needed witnesses." He smiled again.

"The only thing these people would witness is the last drops of your blood spilling out of your neck as they came to check on their crop in the morning." She hissed.

"Never said my plans went perfectly."

"The favor." Sable reminded him, her impatience growing. "What do you need done?"

"As I said," the Breton began to explain, "I ran a job that went south. Guess I got a little desperate with the state of the guild and all. We're cursed, I tell you." Sable made no effort to hide her eyes rolling. "Anyway, I discovered a sizable skooma operation had set up shop out on the docks outside Riften. The plan was simple. Steal a shipment of their moon sugar and then ransom it back for some very good coin."

"Let me guess," the assassin interrupted, "the theft didn't quite go smoothly."

"Nah, I got the goods clean. Never knew I was there." Delvin answered. "It was the buy where all Oblivion broke loose."

"They decided it was more cost effective to kill you rather than buy their moon sugar back." Sable deduced.

"Exactly." The trapped thief answered. "As you can see, I escaped. Can't say the same for the recruit I brought with me."

"I'm still waiting for the part that involves me." Sable interrupted.

"I need these dealers killed." Delvin answered. "I hear they're not happy with just getting their junk back. I hear they're gearing up to take out the guild. Normally, we could just tip off a guard, but since this was done without Mercer's knowing …"

He left the implication hanging. While the thieves guild might be able to survive, they would be weaker than ever and Mercer Frey, the guild's leader, would not be pleased. Likely it would take consider pull from Maven Black-Briar to repel the skooma dealers which would lead her to have even greater influence on them.

"You've outdone yourself this time, Delvin." She said sarcastically.

"I realize it wasn't my best idea ever," he replied.

"How many are we talking about?" Sable asked.

"How should I know?" He shot back, irritated that he was still on his back with a dagger uncomfortably close to his arteries. "There were four of 'em at the buy. I'm sure there is more. A skooma ring is likely to be a sizable operation."

She sighed. "And how are you going to pay for this? The price would be rather high for this many lives."

"I'm calling in every favor I've still got with Astrid." Delvin replied. His usual unflappable and smug demeanor was gone. Sable realized then that this job was likely beyond her skills. Likely beyond the skills of any one assassin.

"Fine. I'll report to Astrid and we'll return to fix your problem." She said.

"You'll be too late." The bald thief argued. "The way I hear it, they'll be attacking soon."

"Gods, Delvin!" The assassin spat. "I'm good. I'm very good. But, an entire skooma cartel! That's suicide!"

"I never said this was nice or easy, love. But it needs doing. If there is any … unofficial assistance I can …"

"Any reason I shouldn't just leave and let you thieves face the dealers on your own?" She interrupted

"I doubt Astrid would very much like one of her own betraying a promise to honor a request for help." Mallory stated plainly.

Sable knew he spoke the truth. Couple that with the fact that Delvin maintained a working relationship between the two guilds and she knew that she had to at least try. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to prove her power over death. If she could pull this off, it would be spitting in the face of Arkay.

"Do you know when they plan to strike?" Sable asked hoping to get an idea of how much time she had.

"Soon is all I know."

"Fine, I'll take care of it." The White Deathbell promised. Before standing and releasing Delvin, she nicked his neck with her blade, just enough to draw blood. Delvin winced. "But, I don't care what kind of pull you have with Astrid, it's not enough to cover taking on a skooma cartel alone. You now owe the Dark Brotherhood."

With that said, Sable released the elder thief and vanished into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

It hadn't been too difficult to find the skooma smugglers' warehouse out on the docks of Riften. Only two of them had a posted guard overnight. Of those two, one belonged to Maven Black-Briar being watched by her chief enforcer; a thug name Maul. The other was guarded by two jittery Argonians dressed in rags armed with steel longswords and daggers. They looked like they were likely coming down from a high. Sable figured she could take the two down easily, but then she spied the master lock on the door to the shabby looking warehouse behind them. While the warehouse looked the part of every other run-down storage building out on the docks, she knew was likely to be well barricaded. Her lock picking skills were rusty since leaving the thieves guild and it was unlikely she could have picked a lock that intricate in a timely fashion even back then.

Quietly and quickly she had made her way around the structure to only to find, to her dismay, that there were no windows to use as an alternate access point. Her frustration only grew upon inspecting the roof. The only way in or out of the warehouse was through the guarded door. And so she paused and crouched a moment on the roof above the two tweaked lizards guarding the only entrance wondering again how she was going to pull this whole thing off.

Disrupting the attack on the Thieves Guild would be easy enough. She could probably even shut down the entire branch of the operation here in Riften. It was the response to these actions that concerned the assassin. Once the rest of the skooma dealing organization heard or discovered what had happened, the response would be swift and brutal. It was likely to be blamed on the thieves guild as well, since it was Delvin that kicked off the whole fiasco. She just hoped that there would be enough of a delay between here and wherever else the dealers were located that help from the Family would arrive in time.

Thinking about everything made the white-haired Nord glad that she had decided to find a courier and send a note back to the Dark Brotherhood before taking any other steps. She prayed to Sithis that courier followed her instructions so that her message would arrive as soon as possible. Just then, Sable's thoughts were interrupted.

"I'm going to do a sweep of the inside. Make sure everything is quiet." One of the Argonian guards stated.

"To Oblivion you are!" The other snapped. "We both know you can't keep your hands to yourself. The boss said he would kill us both if any more went missing."

"And you're so innocent, are you?" the first replied. "They should change your name to Skims-From-Stash."

"Quiet you tongue, or I shall do it for you!" The second one threatened. "You go in there and I'll open your stomach."

"You're not going to stop me from doing anything. The boss gave us orders to check inside periodically, in case those slimy thieves try for the sugar again." The first held his ground. Sable found it interesting that Delvin had found some other way into the warehouse than the front door. "Besides, I have the key so that means I'll be the one that goes inside." The lizard fished a key from his pocket and flashed a smiled at his companion. Said companion responded by punching him in the face and ripping the key from his hand while he was still dazed.

"Hmm, looks like you won't be going in after all." He said arrogantly as he unlocked the door and went inside. She heard a click as the addict guard locked the door behind him.

Sable smiled and suppressed a laugh. These two idiots were going to make it easier than she thought.

The one left outside got up grumbling and shifted to the other side of the door so that it would swing open away from him when the other returned. The assassin crouched right up against the edge of the roof and waited, knowing that the door would have to open again and that would be her way in.

A few moments later, the click of the lock sounded and the door opened. As soon as she saw the Argonian step outside, Sable dropped off of the roof.

She came crashing down onto the lizard from above. The sudden unexpected weight hitting him instantly brought him to the dock floor. And then he knew nothing more as Sable jammed a dagger into the back of his skull. The other guard's eyes went wide as he realized they were under attack.

The remaining Argonian drew his sword and dagger. She could tell he was no fighter. The guards, she realized were mere decoration. These skooma dealers were powerful enough to believe that no one would be stupid enough to rob them. These lizards were probably employed to just to keep away innocents who did know any better.

The sword in his right hand, the lizard slashed at her in a diagonal arc starting from high right going to low left. Sable easily stepped out of the way of the clumsy attack and brought her left dagger in behind his swing as she moved forward inside his reach with the longsword. The quicksilver blade sunk into his forearm severing muscle and tendon as she effectively pinned his arm across his body.

The Argonian cried out in pain as his hand went limp and he dropped the sword. He first tried back away to put distance between himself and the pale devil woman that had appeared out of nowhere, but she stepped with him not letting him free. It was almost laughable watching him try to stab at her awkwardly around his useless right arm that she was still using to obstruct his ability to fight.

Sable slapped the nearly powerless thrust away with the hawk-head pommel of her right dagger before slashing the blade back across. Blood began to gush from his slit throat as he crumpled to the ground suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs to support.

A plan quickly forming, the assassin took the warehouse key from the miscreant that she used to break her fall before dumping him over the side of the dock into the deep water below. She then hauled the other into the warehouse. With any luck, she could make it look like the two addicts had decided to steal the stash they were hired to guard, but then quarreled, ending with one of their deaths with the other disappearing into the night.

She dumped the body just inside the door and headed further in to investigate. The white haired assassin locked the door behind her. The clicking of the heavy intricate lock would give her at least a second or two notice just in case some thug or dealer showed up before morning. She was in a short entry room lined with shelves that were mostly empty. Thankfully there were several goat horn torches lit throughout the interior to provide just enough light.

A few steps later, she came through another doorway into an expansive room that made up the bulk of the warehouse. At the far right corner a small room was constructed, most likely to serve as an office where ledgers or any other important documents were to be kept. Just off of the middle was a small fire pit. And there she spotted an exit panel in the floor. That was how Delvin pulled the heist. He swam underneath the warehouse and picked the lock on the secret trap door. Above, the barn like ceiling crisscrossed with numerous support beams.

On the left side of the cavernous room were numerous shelves where all the drugs were stored. Sable went there first knowing that was where the bulk of her work would be done. She found four large sacks full of the pinkish white crystalline moon sugar. Finding the key worked for the trap door as well, Sable lugged the sacks over to it and dumped them into the lake below.

She found several shelves packed full with bottles of skooma. She grabbed a few of them and emptied them on the floor and scattered the empty bottles around the warehouse, with most of them ending up in the entryway where she had left the dead Argonian. She smashed the rest letting the narcotic liquid go wasted on the floor and shelving.

After the drugs were disposed of, she made her way to the office to see if she could get any clues of where the rest of the operation was and when the attack on the thieves was to take place. To her dismay, there was little inside. She quickly searched the desk and all the cabinets and found only a reference to Cragslane Cavern. She figured it was where the rest of the operation was conducted though she didn't know where this particular cave complex was.

It was time to leave while she still could. With no outside light source in the warehouse, she had no idea no long she had been in the warehouse, but it was certainly long enough. She couldn't risk being caught in the dealers' warehouse. The explanation of what had happened would be obvious if she was still around.

She made her way back to the entrance and cracked open the door and silently cursed. Outside, she was greeted by the mellow gray light of dawn. She was about to attempt to leave and hope it was still early enough that no one would be around when she the stomping of booted feet. Sable turned back into the warehouse leaving the door still slightly cracked hoping it would reinforce the idea of a botched impromptu robbery by their own hirelings.

She went for the trap door figuring a wet escape was better than none at all, but had to abandon even that when she heard a voice just outside.

"What in Oblivion is going on!?" a male voice shouted. "Where are those two idiot egg suckers?"

Sable knew she had to find a hiding place. If she lingered another second to open the trap door in the floor she would be caught. A desperate idea hit and immediately dashed towards the shelving frantically hoping they would be sturdy enough for what she had in mind.

* * *

The White Deathbell watched the troop of six men enter the warehouse perched from the cross beams supporting the roof high above view. Two she guessed were mages as they were dressed in robes and carried staffs. The rest wore cloaks to conceal the armor they were likely wearing though she caught the pale green glint under the cloak of one that told her at least one of them was outfitted in glass armor. Calling it glass armor wasn't quite the truth of it, she knew. What was referred to as "glass" armor was really a rare mineral called malachite. When refined, shaped, and hardened, it made for incredibly effective, if not flashy, armor since it was very light and could turn away all but the staunchest blows. That kind of armor was very rare; very expensive; very fancy.

The group walked into the center of the warehouse to where the fit pit and trap door were located with the one in the glass armor cursing more loudly and more frequently as he surveyed the state of their supply house. Seeing that there was no easy way to escape, Sable figured she might as well remain where she was in the rafters and try to learn what she could. As if she had a choice.

"What in Oblivion happened here?" The man in the fancy armor roared seeing the moon sugar gone and the skooma destroyed.

"Those damn thieves!" Exclaimed one of the others. "We should attack now."

"I do not believe this to be the work of the thieves guild." One of the mages remarked in a calm voice, refuting the thug.

"How can you be sure?" Questioned the first, seeming to be the leader of the group.

"The thieves guild are adverse to murder." The mage explained. "Also, why would they destroy everything of value?"

"Then what in Oblivion happened, Sionis!?" The leader bellowed.

"Look at everything Varskil." Snapped the mage named Sionis. "We found one of the pathetic argonians dead on the floor just inside the door which was cracked open. The skooma was destroyed, though several empty bottles are seen all over the place. And the moon sugar is gone."

"Are you saying the egg suckers did this?" Varskil asked regaining some of his composure.

"I'm saying I think they meant to," Sionis replied, "but an argument ensued. They fought, smashing against the shelves at one point ruining the skooma they wanted. One stabbed the other and ran off with the only thing of value left. The other bled out before making it to the door."

Varskil was silent for a moment, mulling it over in his head. "How does the blood outside fit in, then?" The boss finally asked. Sable immediately felt queasy. That was the only thing wrong with the scene she had set. But then the mage – that darling mage she was probably going to have to kill – saved it all.

"I would assume both of the lizards were armed?" the mage asked, pausing to see Varskil confirm his question with a nod. He continued. "Then it's not hard to suppose that the other was injured in the fight."

Their leader sat in thought again for a moment. "Those blasted reptiles." Varskil said apparently agreeing with the mage's assessment. "The boss isn't going to accept a loss like this. 10,000 septims worth of product gone." He paused again. "Change of plans." He announced. "We're going to attack the thieves today. Hopefully, there is enough sellable loot down there to make up for this disaster. Ralgaff, gather the rest of the crew. We'll hit them fast and hard. Then we'll go after the egg sucker that stole our sugar. Bleeding and likely in need of a fix, he can't have gotten far."

Sable's eyes went wide. She couldn't let the brigand name Ralgaff out of the warehouse, but any strike against him would be noticed. She would have to strike this group now. Strike them hard and fast and hope that in the initial surprise and confusion she could take enough of them out that she wouldn't be overwhelmed. There could be no survivors. If anyone got a message back to "the boss" the mission was lost. By her assessment, the two mages and Varskil were the greatest threats. She had to take them down first, but she also has to worry about the man being sent to get reinforcements. He also had to be among the first to die. The first strike had to take out four of the six targets. If she missed, she died and death would prove the more powerful that day. And that was something she couldn't allow. She would see herself the most powerful again.

With that thought, she readied one of her elven daggers in her left and, a throwing dart in her right and jumped down into the middle of the gang of drug dealers.

As Sable came down right next to the other mage, her dagger tore through his chest as she let the momentum push her down into a crouch. Immediately, she punched her left elbow into the back of Sionis' knee. Over balanced from her buckling his knee, it was easy to sweep his legs out from under him. The perceptive mage landed on his back with a thud, the air driven from his lungs. The flick of her wrist, sent the dart into the back of Ralgaff's neck. His momentum carried him forward as he went down and his limp body crashed into the door, effectively barring the outside world from entering.

Her right hand now empty, the assassin grabbed a stone from the fire pit and heaved it at Varskil. It smashed into the large man's face and sent him reeling. She now stood to face the two remaining thugs who were just beginning to get over the shock of white haired whirlwind of chaos that had appeared in their midst.

She drew her other elven dagger and charged at them, hoping that there was still enough surprise that she could bring them down without resistance and then finish the last two – the mage called Sionis and Varskil – off. Unfortunately, they had recovered enough of their wits and drew their swords. Of course it couldn't be too easy.

So, the assassin changed her tactics. When she closed to striking distance, she gave them each a quick thrust that would be easily blocked. They rose to the occasion and she heard the clang of their collective weapons. She didn't press the attack though; letting them swat her daggers away easily and instead kept running right through the space between them.

Their confusion at her strange move was their undoing. One step into the shared space, she spun and was instantly behind the thug to her right plunging a dagger into his back to the hilt. She continued around his left side put her other blade into his chest as well.

As she anticipated, the other tried attacking her as she had run through them. Instead of cutting her, his sword only struck his dying companion that was now being used as a human shield.

Sable pushed the dying man towards his comrade and spun again, yanking both daggers free. An instant later she planted them both into the back of the other. Perhaps it could be this easy. She elven blades pulled free and the two fell to the floor tangled up in each other.

Not forgetting that Varskil and Sionis were still alive, she turned to assess them. The mage still seemed to be catching his breath and Varskil was lying motionless on the ground a short distance away. She wasn't sure that the rock she threw could have hit with enough force to put him down. It had been meant only to keep him out of the fight for a few moments until she could even the odds.

Still she didn't even detect the slight movement of him breathing. Could she have been that lucky to have killed him with the wild throw? She wasn't going to leave it to chance. Sable quickly crossed over and prodded Varskil. There was no response. Still skeptical, she took the point of one of her daggers and pressed it into the unprotected flesh just above the top of his boot. Still no response. Not even a flinch of pain from the stab wound.

Satisfied that he was at least unconscious, she pushed him over on his back. She was going to slit his throat to make sure he was dead before seeing about trying to question Sionis. Sable stepped over him and knelt down a bit to end Varskil's life. Just as she was about to open the arteries in his neck, his eyes snapped open and he struck. Being on top of him, she manage to get her arms up in as much of a block as she could, but it was his turn to have the element of surprise and his fists struck her temples and her vision went blurry.

She felt herself being thrown to the floor and fought the urge to vomit. If she couldn't regain her senses, she was dead. She did her best to back away from Varskil and make the room stop spinning. As her vision finally began to clear, she saw Varskil standing over her with a sword in hand. He lifted blade, about to deliver the killing blow. But it never came. There was a flash of light off to her right and an instant later, Varskil was thrown across the room. She looked and saw a large spike of ice jutting from his chest. She looked the other direction and saw that Sionis was up, a pale bluish white light fading from his hand. At that close range, the projectile was powerful enough to have rent Varskil's glass armor and bury itself into him before sending him flying across the room.

Sionis spat at his former boss's corpse.

"You'll never hold any power over anyone ever again, you piece of daedric filth!" He stated through clenched teeth. He then turned and looked to Sable. "I'm guessing we're on the same side now."

She nodded. Once again this mage – this darling mage – had saved her.


	15. Chapter 15

They both hesitated, unsure of what would – or should – happen next. Sable's instincts returned and her eyes darted to and fro around the room and back to the mage standing in front her trying to put together a way to escape. He seemed to recognize her impulse and took a step back from her.

"I don't intend to harm you." He said calmly. "Believe it or not, I'm rather overjoyed at what happened here." He reached down and picked up her elven daggers. "I will give these back to you, if you agree you at least hear my explanation for what just happened. Afterwards, we can decide to either help each other or try to kill each other. I'm beginning to suspect our goals will be the same."

"Hand me my blades," the assassin replied, "I'm listening."

"I'll keep it as short as I can since it is likely more will arrive when they decide Varskil has taken too long." With that said, he quickly glanced to the door as if expecting it to burst open at that moment. When it didn't happen, he turned back to her. "First, a formal introduction – I am Sionis." He said pulling back the hood of his robes. Sable's breath caught for just a brief second. He had a short mess of dirty blonde hair that swept from right to left perched above the most intense eyes that were colored with a brown so dark one might mistake them as black at a distance. He had a sharp but strong jawline. Stubble matching the same dirty blonde color of his hair framed is mouth and covered his chin. He looked younger than she expected, but had an air of maturity in his eyes that told her that he – like herself – had seen more than most well beyond his age.

"I am The White Deathbell." Sable replied not wanting to give him her name just yet.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Here's the story. I worked for these skooma dealers, but not willingly. A former friend apparently owed them a debt and offered to have me help them with a favor in exchange for cancelling the debt. I was less than pleased with what I had been volunteered for, but agreed to it in order to spare my friend from whatever punishment would otherwise be meted out. Once the work was done, they kept their word and let my friend out of the debt, but decided that I now knew too much about their organization to allow me out of their service. They took my younger sister captive, telling me they would … find some way for her to 'help' with the operation if I did not work for them." He paused having to fight his rage back down at the thought of his sister's predicament. "So, when I saw you in the rafters of the warehouse along with everything you had done, I figured perhaps this was the chance I had been waiting for and took the risk. I did not…"

"Wait, you saw me?" Sable interrupted shocked.

"Well, perhaps those are not the appropriate words." Sionis explained. "Varskil never knew about this, but I would always speak an incantation that allows me to see an aura of all nearby living things before entering anywhere with my employers. I figured it would come in handy if they ever decided to … terminate my services."

"Anyway," he continued, returning to his story. "Initially, I was going to tip off Varksil, but when I saw the dead argonian I decided stay quiet about you and see how it would play out. So I presented the scene you set that he was too stupid to see. Though I must say I didn't expect you to just drop down on us. Truly, Miss Deathbell, you are a whirling dervish of death."

Sable smiled at his last statement.

"So, as I said, I suspect our goals are the same. Unless I'm very much mistaken, we both mean to eradicate these skooma dealers, no?"

"You are not mistaken." Sable confirmed. "Though my reason is far less noble than yours."

"It doesn't matter to me." The mage said forcefully before catching himself and softening this tone. "I want them destroyed. And I would like your help doing so."

"And if I decide not to give you aid in your quest?" She asked.

"Then I will go alone." He replied evenly. "I know I took a risk on you, but I've made my move. I must now see this through. I will obliterate them or die trying."

Sable had already decided to join forces with Sionis long ago, but she had wanted to see his resolve. "If you die trying it means you'll have my blood on your hands, mage. I'm coming with you."

He smiled. And it was a wondrous sight. "Good. I'm going to enjoy killing them. Every one of them I murder will only increase my joy."

Now Sable smiled. Oh, she liked this one. She had to bring herself back to the task at hand though.

"So we're off to Cragslane Cavern, I assume?" She asked.

He turned a surprised look on her. "How did you know about that place?"

"Just a guess," Sable answered, "It was the only thing I could find in this place that offered any hint at where the rest of the operation is."

"Cragslane Cavern does house the bulk of their business including the leaders," Sionis confirmed, "but we are not yet done here I'm afraid."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, there will be others that will eventually come here looking for Varskil." The mage answered. "Your actions here this morning cut the head off of the trade here in Riften, and I commend you for it. But this serpent can still be dangerous as it goes through its death throes."

"Ok, so analogies aside, what are we expecting?" The assassin asked.

"If you recall, the dealers were gearing up for an attack on the thieves guild." He replied. "The six of us were just the lead group that was coordinating it. Varskil had brought another 20 – at least – in for the assault. They will eventually grow restless and come investigate as to what's taking us so long to detail a simple assault."

Sable cursed.

"I agree." The mage said. "We must set out for Cragslane immediately and put as much distance on the horde as possible."

"We can't do that." The white haired Nord refuted. "To allow that many enemies to remain at our backs would be foolhardy. Besides, even without the leadership, they will probably still attempt the assault on the thieves."

"Good." Sionis countered empathetically. "Let them be distracted for while we strike at the heart of the beast. Perhaps they even win out and Skyrim is rid of two criminal organizations at once."

Sable couldn't keep the look of incredulity from her face. "Do you not see the organization I belong to?"

The mage looked her up and down. His eyes opened with understanding as the realization hit him. "You're an assassin." She nodded confirmation. "Are you telling me the Dark Brotherhood was contracted to assassinate the skooma dealers and sent only you?"

"That's not quite how it went down, but it seems that's what it ended up being." Sable replied. "What you see here is a former member calling in old favors. And I'm not sure even he has enough collateral for this. I may kill him just on principle when this is all over."

"I see." Sionis clearly remained confused but was apparently not going to press it further. "Well, I hope you have an idea then. There's no way we can fend off the whole force ourselves."

"True, but that doesn't mean we can't leave some surprises for them. Can your magic be used to set a trap?"

"Indeed, it can." The mage smiled beginning to see the plan this lovely yet murderous woman was concocting. "And I think I may have just the perfect spell for them."

* * *

They both watched the warehouse from the near bank of Lake Honrich. Just as Sionis had said, the thug "infantry" of the skooma dealers eventually got impatient and came to investigate. They both smiled at the cracks of electricity and dying screams as the men encountered the magical trap the mage had laid for them. The explanation he had given her awhile before still confused her.

"It's a variant on a lightning rune spell." He had explained when they had still been in the warehouse. "Normally, there is a discharge of lightning when someone crosses the threshold of the rune. I've added a renewing arc to the spell. It uses the small amount of latent magical ability present in everyone as a conduit to bounce to new targets."

Sable just nodded pretending to have understood.

"I haven't figured out how to make it discriminate between friend or foe yet though, so once I lay the runes be careful not to get too close to them. I only wish the initial casting was more controlled and auspicious."

She had started to back away when the realization of what he said hit her. "Wait, you've never tried this before!?" His look of confusion at her concern answered her question well enough. "How do you know it will work like you say it will?"

"Oh, I'm very sure that it will work perfectly." Sionis had assured before mumbling something else she didn't quite catch. When he went back to his work as if the matter had been settled, she sighed and left the warehouse leaving him to the casting.

About an hour later, they watched as the horde forced their way into the warehouse. A short time later, they triggered the spell trap. It wasn't hard for Sable to imagine the sheer pandemonium that must have ensued. It made for some delightful mental images.

Eventually, the chaos began to subside. The screams and cracks of lightning died down and went silent. Sable insisted they stay and keep watch for another hour to make sure that no survivors came staggering out.

"Well, now you know that your spell works as intended." The white-haired assassin commented.

"Yes, indeed." Sionis replied. "Thank you for providing me an opportunity to try it Miss Deathbell."

She giggled. "You can call me Sable."

Now that they were satisfied, they left; heading north to Cragslane Cavern.

* * *

It had taken all that day and most of the following night to reach their destination though it was still dark as the pair began a cautious approach on Cragslane Cavern. They still had the cover of night, but with how long it took to travel, they couldn't have had much more than a couple of hours before dawn at best.

"Should we make a camp and come back after dusk?" Sionis asked.

"No." Sable answered. "This may actually be ideal."

"How do you figure that?" the mage questioned. "We can't be that far away from dawn. If we are going to attack now, it will have to soon."

"There's a chance that those that are awake and guarding the place are close to the end of their shift and tired." The white haired Nord explained. "Sleepy eyes notice less." She paused. "But you're right on our need to move quickly."

"So, what's the plan of attack then?"

"Plan?" The assassin faltered momentarily. "Yeah. I kill everyone. And we do so swiftly and silently." A moment later she looked back to her companion. "Unless there is anything about their defenses I should know."

"I'm not sure what the guard looks like at night. During the day it would be exceedingly difficult since almost every chamber is used and would see various members of the cartel going about various tasks." The mage explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well, then," Sable sighed. "We'll have to move through them quickly and kill as many as we can before they rise for the day. But, we must also move absolutely silently. How stealthy can you be?"

In answer, Sionis turned and mumbled. A moment later a light blue glow washed over his form momentarily. He then turned back to her and stamped his feet on the ground. No noise came from his movements. He lifted an eyebrow and smirked a bit, using his expression to ask if she was satisfied.

"A muffle spell?" She asked. She hoped that her having some knowledge of his craft would surprise him, but there was only disappointment.

"Yes, very similar to the one your boots are enchanted with." He answered. At first she was surprised, but then thought back to their meeting. For a mage, it wouldn't be hard to guess that her boots were enchanted after seeing her leap from the rafters to the floor without any sound from her impact.

"Ok, but what happens when the spell wears off?" Sable continued to question. "Can you cast it silently?"

"No, not silently, but I will try to be as quiet as I can." He replied.

"I guess there's no helping that." The curvy Nord replied. "However, being silent is one thing. Can you also stay out of sight?"

"I can make myself invisible." The blonde mage said with a measure of pride. "No really." He insisted upon seeing the doubt on his companion's face. "It's a spell. When I said I can make myself invisible, I was speaking literally."

Her countenance brightened. "Then we've won!" The assassin exclaimed. "The pandemonium that will break loose when they have destruction unseen rain down upon them will be..."

"Umm … there is a problem with that idea." The mage piped up over her excitement. He hated to squash her delight (however disturbing it might be), but disappointed would be better than dead.

"And that would be?" Sable asked a bit impatiently.

"Invisibility spells are extreme fragile. The beneficial effect is nullified upon taking almost any action other than basic movement." He explained

"You mean if you attack someone, the spell is broken?" The assassin asked incredulously.

"I believe that's what I just said." Sionis replied.

"I'm guessing you thought so, just not in recognizable English." Sable countered with a grin.

"It must have been if you understood what I meant!" The flustered wizard huffed.

Sable smiled inwardly. Finally she managed to knock him off his pedestal a bit.

"Ok, then." She said after a moment of thought. "I guess we don't get the win too easy this night."

"You're saying this is easy?" Sionis asked incredulously.

"Go ahead and cast the spells to make you silent and invisible." She continued, ignoring his question. "But stay back a short distance. I'll take point and take down everyone we find. If I get into trouble or by some chance I miss someone, put them down. But then get yourself unseen again."

"So, I'm playing the role of tactical support?"

"I believe that's what I just said." Sable replied with a gleam in her eyes. "Let's go. We're losing the only thing working in our favor."

Sionis cast the needed enchantments on himself and followed her into the den of evil unsure if either of them would make it back out.

* * *

He was pretty sure they were not going to survive the assault. It had been going quite well for a while. Almost boring for him in fact. Sable's ability to kill without being detected was majestic. They had made it through the first three chambers of Cragslane Cavern before he has messed up and brought the whole cartel down upon them.

A number of thugs lay dead behind them. Some had been sleeping when the assassin came upon them. They would never wake again. It happened just as they came into a rather large cave in the complex. They had come out of a tunnel onto a ledge that nearly ran the length of their end of the cave. There was a guard on either side of the ledge to watch the entrance. A moment after Sable had crept out and went to her left to deal with one of the guards. The other on the opposite end perked up and turned toward where the assassin had just been and began walking toward. A moment later the guard she had gone after crumpled to the ground. Even if she hadn't caught the other guard's attention before, the mage was sure she had it now. He hadn't done a single thing but renew his muffle and invisibility to this point, but now it had been time for him to act. When the thug drew a nasty looking hooked mace, the adrenaline that had kept him tense and alert surged anew and pushed him over the edge. After that moment, he had known nothing else but his instincts to protect his assassin companion.

He stayed still until the guard passed right in from of him at the entrance to the cavern. Then he had cast his spell. As the invisibility cracked and dissipated altogether, there had been a brief moment when the henchman's eyes went wide in surprise before the lightning bolt slammed into his chest and threw him across the room with a loud crack as the air around it had been torn asunder. The thug crashed right into the middle of the pack of dogs fenced in a makeshift kennel.

Sinois groaned in shame. In heat of the moment, he had forgotten about the dogs. It wasn't even a second later when Sable appeared in his face, a look of disbelieving rage painted across her face.

"Why in Oblivion did you do that!?" He could barely hear her over the barking of the dogs now alerted to the intruders. "I had that one dead. I just needed to wait for him to come to me!"

The wizard had been speechless in the face of her anger.

"Doesn't matter now." Her expression softened a bit when she had seen his speechless regret. "Get yourself ready for a fight. We're about to have all we can handle."

As if on cue, the drug dealers had begun pouring in from various corridors in various states of dress, but all of them armed. Again, he had to take a moment to catch his breath when he watched Sable meet them head on. It was almost like she was dancing through them. It was smooth. It was fluid. It was as deadly as it was beautiful. And it caused their blood to rain to the floor behind her every movement.

Sionis had come out of his trance just in time as one of the villains had come in behind her. She didn't seem to notice and just as he was about to strike, he cast a new spell. A split-second later the ice spike had slammed into the man's head and dropped him to the floor.

After he had started casting to support her, it didn't take them long to figure out his position and come at him. He killed several of them before they had reached him, but it wasn't much of fight at that point. Being a mage, he was no good at close combat.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a concerted effort to overwhelm and put down the assassin sowing death through their ranks. They had tried at least. He tried to take comfort in the hope that maybe they had done enough damage to the organization that it would be awhile before they could operate again. Then he knew no more.

* * *

Lod was probably one of the few that actually enjoyed being a messenger. Well, most of the time anyway. This last assignment was one of the strangest he had ever done. It had all started in The Bee and Barb Inn in Riften. A woman in a cloak had approached needing a message carried and had insisted on him leaving that very night. At first he had objected, but the amount of money she had pushed his way persuaded him. Well, that and she was quite striking with the fairest skin he'd ever seen on a Nord along with white hair and pale silver-blue eyes. He might have done the job for her for less money, but why argue when a client was rushed and offering far more than the task was worth. The customer was always right.

And so he had set out that night, using his new found fortune to rent a horse from the stable outside. If he even hoped to avoid all the bandits, spiders, and other nasty things that roamed about the countryside at night, he would need to be able to move very swiftly.

He stopped only to rest in towns or villages such as Ivaarstead and Riverwood. He actually hadn't needed to stop in Riverwood. He had not travelled a full day upon reaching the town and probably could've pressed on, but he decided it would be better for both him and his client if he was well rested for the last leg of the journey. Surely one night's delay wouldn't cause any problems.

And so on the second day out from Riften he had arrived in Falkreath and this is where his instructions had become rather odd. The cloaked woman had told him to walk out of the hold city through the cemetery to the west of the city and once he was outside of hearing distance of the city guard to begin shouting the recipient's name. He was instructed to keep walking to the west while doing so, and it shouldn't be too long before he would be able to deliver his message.

It hadn't been long indeed when he was confronted. A Redguard man suddenly appeared a few steps ahead. He carried a large scimitar and wore a rather distinct set of black and sanguine leather armor. He stared at the messenger with dark eyes that were calm yet also threatened a world of malice if they deemed the encounter between them didn't go the way he wanted.

Lod had seen his type before. This man was a killer; pain and simple. And he held no remorse about the nature of his profession.

"And who is it that calls for Astrid?" The armored man asked in a deep rich voice that was as cold as Nordic steel in a snow storm.

"I … I'm a courier." Lod stammered in reply. "I was hired to bring Astrid a message. That's all."

"I see," the Redguard replied. "I will relieve of your burden. Give the message to me and I'll see that she gets it."

"I … I can't," the messenger argued nervously. "I was told … told to give the message to Astrid only."

"Astrid is my mistress," the man clarified drawing his curved sword, "and I'll not compromise her safety for anything. Give me the message and I'll take it to her. Or if you'd rather, I can take it from your corpse."

Lod smiled at hearing the threat and upon seeing the confusion on his adversary's face, he explained.

"The person I'm delivering this for told me that anyone threatening to kill me rather than take me to Astrid would be good hands to entrust the message to." He slowly reached into his tunic and pulled the folded piece of paper from a pocket and held it out to the man in the leather armor.

The Redguard reached forward and took it from him. He then, turned and walked away without another word. Lod breathed a sigh of relief and headed back toward Falkreath to find an inn and get drunk.

For his part, Nazir went immediately back to the Sanctuary. He needed to get the message to his matron as soon as possible. Based on what the courier had said, he figured that the note had come from one of the family and so, out of respect for his brother or sister, he did not open it. It was meant for Astrid.

A few moments later, he passed through the door into the home of the Dark Brotherhood and approached Astrid, the leader of the assassin's guild. The tall blonde Nord greeted him as he came near.

"A message for you my mistress." Nazir stated. "Delivered by courier."

"Thank you, Nazir." She replied before turning her attention to the parchment and opened it.

A moment later her face drained of color as a waterfall of worry washed across it.

"Could you travel?" Astrid questioned urgently.

"I have no con…"

"I mean immediately." She cut him off. "Right now."

"Yes. If it's urgent, I'm ready to leave this moment."

"Good. Stay here." She said hurriedly. "I'm going to get Babette, my husband, and anyone still here. I'll be right back. We're leaving immediately."

"Mistress, may I ask that cause for such alarm and a response of this magnitude?"

Astrid handed him the note and then ran down further into the system of caves that served as their home. He opened it and his eyes went wide as he read it.

**_Send help. Quickly._**

**_-Sable_**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry everyone for taking so long to post this chapter. Had some life happen. Also sorry (not really) for leaving the last chapter on a bit of a cliffhanger.**

**Also, huge thank you to Kira Mackey for the shout out. Show her some love if you haven't already and check out her stuff. It's incredible reading.**

**And as always, thanks to everyone that has favorited, followed, and/or reviewed. I really appreciated it.**

**-E.K.**

* * *

Pain brought her back to consciousness. Then, she heard someone screaming and it helped lift her out of the blackness. When she was forced to gasp for a new breath, she realized that she was the one she had heard screaming. As she sucked new air in, there was yet more pain. It flashed through her ribs and up her spine. Against her will, her back arched upward. It was then that she realized she was lying on her back. Her eyes opened and the harshness of the light made her snap them back closed. The pain was exquisite and every little movement set if off to greater levels. She knew that she would have to center herself and calm down. It was the only hope she had to try to get the pain under control.

"Finally stirring again, I see." She heard a harsh sinister voice say. She wanted only to fall away from it and back into the blackness. Somehow, she sensed that it would be better than whatever the voice had planned.

"Oh, no you don't." The voice reprimanded. "Stay awake for me this time."

Pain exploded through her side as she felt a booted foot kick her. She forced her eyes open and squinted a bit, trying to adjust to the light. Eventually the burning stopped and she noticed that a couple of torches were the only sources of illumination in the cave. She must have been out for a while for it to have hurt her eyes that bad.

"There's a good girl," the voice chortled though it sounded more malicious than anything else. A face appeared in her vision as it finally cleared up. The man was older with thick graying hair that probably used to be black. It was cut somewhat close to his head. His wrinkled face was covered with stubble. He had green eyes that gleamed with arrogance and a vileness that frightened her. She tried to get up and found that she was restrained to the table by her wrists and ankles.

"Oh, you can't leave just yet." The man smiled. It gave her a mental image of a cat ready to play with a mouse. "It would hurt my feelings if you refused my hospitality so soon after arriving." His face suddenly twisted itself up in rage. "Especially after the number of my men you left dead behind you! It will take months of dealing skooma to recoup the losses you caused!"

In that instant, those words brought it all back to her. Sable remember it all. She had taken on the skooma cartel in response to a request for help from a member of the thieves guild. The thief used to be a member of the Dark Brotherhood, the guild of assassins to which she now belonged. Since his band of professional bandits had fallen on hard times, he had run a desperate operation to rip off the skooma dealers in Riften. He had done so without the approval of the guild's leader and it had failed miserably. In fear of retaliation, he had contacted the Family and called in whatever favors the assassins owed him. She accepted not knowing the details and was forced to act immediately regardless of how outnumbered and out-armed she was. Along the way, she had met a wizard by the name of Sionis. He had worked for the dealers for a while against his will. They had kidnapped his younger sister and threatened to kill her or worse if he didn't cooperate. When she struck and took on the Riften division's leadership, he had decided it was time for his shackles to come off as well and had helped her.

The pair, then, invaded the cartel's headquarters at Cragslane Cavern in the hours just before dawn. They might have been successful at eliminating the dealers except that Sionis had inadvertently alerted the cartel and brought the whole organization down upon them. The last thing she remembered was slashing her way through the thugs covered in blood that was not her own.

And now, here she was; strapped to a torture table under the thumb of the sadistic leader of the whole syndicate. She turned her view to see a hooded mage with lightning crackling among his fingertips.

"That's right, my little flower." The boss said with glee. "He's here just for you." He laughed as he stepped out of the way of his cohort.

Normally, the assassin might have found what he had called her amusingly ironic, but the looming promise of yet more pain on a level she legitimately feared stole the giggle from her before it had any hope of bubbling to the surface.

The wizard stepped forward and raised his electricity filled hands. Sable turned her head the other way. While she was sure it wouldn't lessen the pain any, she didn't want to see it coming. She heard a crack as the lightning discharged into her. All her muscles locked and every joint in her body was jolted. Her body contorted in an endless string of spasms. She opened her mouth to scream away whatever pain she could. Her lungs emptied themselves though there was not a sound. Not even a whisper escaped her.

* * *

Sable didn't actually know how long the cartel mage kept the spell coursing over her each time. Her muscles continued to spasm for a while after he had let up. This caused her to jerk against her bindings making new wounds at her hands and feet. Just as it seemed as if the convulsing was dying down, the daedra-spawn of a mage would light her up again.

At this point, all she knew was pain and the quickly diminishing hope that it would ever stop. She had cracked or chipped several of her teeth already due to how hard she was clenching her jaw while her torturer went about his work. And he seemed to be rather enthusiastic and studious about it.

She almost welcomed death now. While she hated to think that Arkay was indeed more powerful than her, she knew that if she died the pain would finally stop and the despair nearly crushed her. And oddly enough, that is what saved her in that moment. The wave of despair that rolled over her at the thoughts of her powerlessness was then quickly destroyed by anger. It boiled into rage. How dare she let these cowards exercise their power over her? It was just pain after all. Granted it was breath-taking in its scope, but all pain ended. She steeled herself against it now. They might be able to make her scream, but eventually it would have to stop and when that happened, their power over her would be gone. She would prove it to them. And then, they would die. They would die screaming and she would laugh in their faces.

"And just what's so amusing?" The voice of their leader came from out view. "Have you not yet had enough? Or has your mind broken already?"

"What's funny," the bound assassin replied ignoring the pain of the air hitting her newly broken teeth, "is that I was about to ask you the same thing." She hadn't realized she had been laughing out loud. She didn't care though. It truly was funny that she had ever thought that they had any real, lasting power over her.

"Yes, I suppose I could see where that would be amusing." The man replied. It was obvious he was trying to keep his anger from boiling over. How easy it was to reverse the power struggle on her captors. She was now the one in control. He finally seemed to regain enough composure to continue giving her a small, tight, and completely forced smile. "Well, since we all seem to be in such cheery spirits, why don't we chat for a bit."

"I guess if you think you're interesting enough to hold my attention." Sable challenged.

The 'chat' almost ended right there before it really began. It took her captor several more moments to regain himself.

"I'll try my best to entertain you," the man said with a malevolent smile. "You did quite a bit of damage to my operation before you were finally captured. Truly, I haven't seen anyone weave death through a crowd quite the way you did. Of course having a mage who is an expert at destruction as back up probably didn't hurt you're cause any."

"Glad you liked the show." Sable sneered being careful not to change her expression in the slightest at the mention of Sionis. "Always nice to know I have fans."

The cartel leader laughed. "I don't know that I would classify me as a fan just yet. However, I may become one. It all depends on how cooperative you'd like to be." He paused briefly, but not long enough for her to get another jab in. He was adjusting his tactics to try to regain control. He was good, but she was determined that he wouldn't be good enough. "See, being the businessman that I am, I would like to know what prompted you to visit me with such … unfriendly intentions."

"You mean you don't recognize the armor of a Dark Brotherhood assassin?" She answered. "How could you have been in the business of dealing skooma and not think you might earn an enemy that would want you dead?"

"So this is simply a matter of a contract your pathetic little guild foolishly attempted to fulfill?" Sable didn't bother answering the idiot's question. If it wasn't rhetorical, then he was too dumb to understand it all anyway. She didn't figure he was that dumb though. To her knowledge, no other drug dealing outfit had ever successfully run their operation through a hold city for any length of time.

"Well then," he finally continued, "the answer to my first question leads to another. Who is it that sent you to kill me?"

This was a pivotal moment in the conversation, she knew. She could come clean and tell him or she could remain true to her Family and tell this scum nothing. Figuring that he would probably kill her regardless, she opted to really piss her captor off.

"I'm afraid that is a question I can't answer." Sable responded. "I take the confidentiality of our clients seriously."

"Is that confidentiality worth your life?" the man growled, now just inches from her face. "I won't just kill you, you know. I'll make it last longer than you would think possible."

Sable simply stared at him; never flinching or blinking. She kept her gaze locked on his in silence until he couldn't take it any longer and finally got the hint.

"Have! It! Your! Way!" he screamed in rage. He looked to his mage. "Malik, make her suffer."

The mage chuckled as the man stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "It's rare that he leaves me alone with a prisoner. Let me show you one of my favorite ways to cause pain."

At that, his hands lit up with a mostly white energy tinged with blue. He walked down to her feet and cast his frost magic over her right foot, encompassing it in the freezing cold.

It was a shock at first, but for the most part, Sable didn't respond to it much. She had lived in Skyrim all her life and was quite used to the cold. She knew that the wizard could cause frostbite or all manner of other problems with the unnaturally cold frost, but at least it wouldn't register as painful as the lightning.

A moment later, the mage looked up from his work and she finally got a glimpse of him. He was a chubby-faced Redguard with sadistic eyes set too close to each other. For some reason, his looks just made it seem fitting that he ended up a torturous bastard.

He now called flame to his right hand and went back to work on the same foot.

"See, this is the tricky part," he commented as he worked. "Just the right application of the heat and it will cause such agony that you'll give Lionel anything he wants." She could've done without his explanation but wasn't able to get a comment in as he kept right on rambling on. "See, as the foot is heated up too quickly ..."

She never heard the rest as pain exploded through her foot and she screamed. The heat differential caused by the flame being applied to her frozen flesh caused the skin to form massive blisters that then burst violently in spurts of blood leaving the layer beneath exposed. In other places, the top layers of her flesh simply cracked apart, gouging her foot with deep valleys and spattering her blood all over the mage's robes. The pain was blinding and deafening and though she couldn't see or hear anything, she could still feel the pain and wished desperately for unconsciousness.

As she started to regain her vision and hearing, she became aware that there was some kind of commotion. The wizard was just grabbing the boot of her left foot when the door to her particular room in hell burst open. The boss walked in hurriedly following by a half dozen of his thugs. He strode right up to Sable.

"Last chance!" His voice had a twinge of desperation in it now. "Tell me who arranged the contract and I'll let you live."

"We both know that I won't leave this gods-forsaken pit alive." The trapped assassin replied. "Even if that were not the case, I don't reveal my clients to anyone. If you were half as smart as you seem to think, you probably would have figured out who it was by now anyway."

His eyes went wild with rage. He reached down and grabbed her nearly destroyed right foot and squeezed it with all his might. Sable screamed.

"Tell me!" Her captor demanded as loudly as he could, urgency nearing taking over in his voice. "Tell me, or I'll kill you now!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the captive assassin heard a cry of surprise that turned into one of pain ever so briefly before it was gone in a gargle.

"Uh oh," Sable couldn't help but giggle despite the pain, "what's the matter, Lionel? Under attack again?" She used as much bravado as she could muster to keep the tears of joy at knowing her Family had come for her from leaking out.

"Shut your impertinent mouth!" He shouted as he back-handed her hard enough to rattle her teeth.

A moment later, the door slammed open and a Redguard man wearing the black and sanguine leather armor of the Dark Brotherhood walked in. He was carrying a large scimitar that he used to take the head off of the surprised thug nearest him.

"I wouldn't advise even touching her again." He said in a deep rich voice. "It would be rather … unhealthy."

"Nazir!" Sable couldn't help the outburst. She was overwhelmed with happiness at hearing his voice.

"Greetings sister," he replied, "give us one moment to deal with the garbage and help you off of that table."

"You might have trouble with that, seeing how there is still six of us and only one of you." Lionel threatened.

"Unfortunately for you," Nazir countered. "You won't be dealing with me. We all promised that you'd have to deal with her."

He stepped aside to reveal a rather innocent looking 10 year old girl.

"Babette!" Sable involuntarily exclaimed again.

"Hi sister!" Babette returned excitedly before her face turned serious. "How badly do these cretins need to be hurt?"

The cartel leader finally piped in. "A little girl? I'm supposed to be afraid of this tiny little girl?" He chuckled.

"The faceless idiots can just simply be killed." Sable answered Babette as if no one else had spoken. "Save this one for me," she said face pointing to the leader. "This one," she pointed with her face again, this time to Malik, "is the one that did this to me." She wiggled her mangled appendage. "He's all yours. Do with him whatever you see fit."

The child vampire smiled. "As you wish, sister."

"Enough of this." The cartel leader spat. "Kill the child! Kill them all!"

The five remaining goons rushed toward Babette while the torturous mage and their leader hung back to watch the carnage. Just as they were about to reach her, the child smiled wide, showing off long pointed incisors.

She leapt into the fray and the sheer brutality of it took Sable's breath away. The child vampire jumped into the arms of the first to reach her and sank her fangs into his neck. She didn't bother to stay there and feed. She promptly bit deep and then ripped a mouthful sized chunk of his neck out. They both fell to the ground as the man attempted to scream the rest of his life away. It came out as loud gargling sound.

And then they were upon her. One grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up. In response, Babette reached back to the fingers wrapped up in her hair and ripped two or three of them out of their sockets. The man screamed, gripping his disfigured hand. She didn't even bother to go after him; rather she turned her attention to the next one in line. She kicked him in the knee hard enough to break it. It broke so forcefully that the joints nearly came out the back of his knee with a loud crack. As he doubled over to clutch at his leg, she reached up and grabbed his head. Her face strained with exertion, but she did manage to twist his head so that his face was in line to look over his left shoulder. That one's life was gone before he hit the ground.

To say the remaining two were beginning to lose the heart to fight was an understatement. But they never had the chance to back out. Babette rushed the closest of them, bowling him over. She ripped his throat out in a fountain of blood just like the first. The last of the cartel thugs turned to leave. Another unnatural leap from the child vampire brought her right in to his back. Upon landing, she grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the ground with such force that blood squirted out from all sides of his face in a circle from the multiple rapid cracks of fractured facial bones.

Babette looked up from the last of the ruffians, her face covered in streaks and smears of carnage. Her visage was nightmarish as she sighted down the wizard. To his credit, he kept his composure enough that he started to call fire to his hands, but Babette was there before he could cast. Disappointingly, their tumble took them out of Sable sight, but the screams that came from the sadistic son of a scamp were quite satisfying.

Seizing the opportunity of the Oblivion-spawned child taking her time with his former interrogator, Lionel pulled a knife from his belt and quickly started toward his captive assassin intent on at least ending her life, but he forgot about Nazir and failed to notice that a new stranger wearing the same black and sanguine leather armor had entered the room.

The Redguard assassin stepped up and brought the pommel of his scimitar onto the cartel kingpin's right shoulder. His right arm went completely numb and he let go the knife as he dropped to his knees. The third assassin was there in a flash, an elven short sword at his throat to prevent any other maneuvers. He looked up, finally seeing the tall blonde Nord woman and knew it was over. His shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the ground as he awaited his fate.

"Taking on an entire skooma cartel I see," Sable was never so glad to hear Astrid silken voice. "Ah, ever the overachiever." Her matron stroked some hair out of her face as Nazir started to cut away her bindings.

She wasn't paying much attention though. The white-haired assassin's mind replayed Babette's attack on the thugs over and over. Sable had never seen such a display of sheer power. It was magnificent. The men had never stood a chance against her and she had let them know that violently and quite messily before they died. Everything, from opening of their throats, to the fracturing of bones, to the limbs torn from their sockets. And now that she thought about it, she remembered Babette mentioning that she was nearly 300 years old. No person or thing or anything else could hold power over her. Not even Arkay himself. That was her answer. She would become a vampire and know supreme power.

Her thoughts were broken a moment later when the child-vampire came into view. Blood was still dripping off her chin. She smiled an exuberant ten year old girl smile. It would have looked cute if hadn't been so grotesque; bits of tissue still clinging across her cheek and jawline.

"The wizard suffered greatly, sister." Babette exclaimed proudly and then her voice went cold. "I'm only sorry that it didn't last long enough to make up for what the daedra cursed pig did to you."

"Babette," Sable said barely above a whisper. "You must make me like you."

The smile left the vampire's face instantly.

"Let's get you home." Astrid offered her a hand to help her up. Sable just now noticed that the bindings had been cut free. She grasped her matron's hand and slowly sat up and winced as she finally got her first good look at her ruined foot. Interestingly enough, the pain had lessened considerably, but she had to wonder if she would ever walk without a limp again. It still oozed blood and she couldn't tell where the breaks in the skin actually were. She glanced over to where Babette and Malik had crashed to the floor. There was nothing but a pile of gore left from what she could tell. If she hadn't known beforehand, she wouldn't have been sure that what was left had been human.

"Sable, Gabriella was not at the Sanctuary when I got your message." Astrid explained. "We'll have to wrap it and hope for the best until we can get you to her. Can you struggle through it?"

"Are there any of these bastards left to kill?" The injured assassin asked.

"I bet there are still a few we haven't rooted out." The tall blonde answered with a sly smile. "I found these on a table by the door." Astrid handed her a pair of perfectly crafted elven daggers. They had been a gift from Astrid's werewolf husband, Arnbjorn.

"Then, I'll crawl if I have to." Sable answered grimly and full of determination. "But first, this guy."

Sable turned to the cartel leader that her Family had left for her at her request. She knelt down to look at him face to face.

"All this … is compliments of Delvin Mallory of the Thieves Guild in Riften." She didn't even wait to see his reaction before plunging one of daggers through his ear into his skull. His eyes immediately glassed over indicating his life was gone. "Who has the power now?"

"I think I'll ask about that later." Astrid commented. "Ready to finish this?"

Sable nodded. "There is someone we need to find on our way out, so no killing anymore wizards without my approval."

The trio nodded their consent and surrounded her as she hobbled toward the door. She only made it a few steps before she faltered. Nazir quickly went to her right and put himself under her arm to support her weight.

"Babette, you go in front." He instructed. "Take up the rear if you don't mind, mistress." The vampire and their leader complied and they left the torture chamber at a shuffling pace with Sable carrying her right boot.


End file.
